Heather Hidden
by Cassie Jamie
Summary: *Chapter 13 up* Harry's lived his life in secrets, but when he's thrown out onto the street, he finds a protector who's willing to reveal one very special secret to him. ('nother child abuse/long-lost sister fic. Sry.)
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own the original characters.  I think that's obvious – I would be writing a book, not fanfic, if I did.  I'm not using this for money.  Yatsa, yatsa, and yatsa.

Claimer: I own any not of the HP universe.

A/N: I have never been to England in my life.  I'm a seventeen-year old American girl who's never stepped foot there, and therefore I know little about it.  If there are any mistakes that can be remedied, I'll gladly accept the help.  I can't think of any other name that can be shorted to Harry, so I've chosen Harrison.  (I don't think J.K.R. has given out his full first name…if there is one.)  Oh, and, since the dates of the world aren't concrete (J.K.R. has only given one to play with), don't be mad if I say some things happened a year or two later then is usually accepted.  Thanks!

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter One

-*-*-

            "No, please.  He's just a kid." The nearly nineteen-year old, redheaded girl cried out in her fevered sleep, thrashing in her bed, as her godparents tried in vain to end her suffering.

            Aided by Albus Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall had been up all through the previous night, holding her as she retched and screamed.  The adults knew, of course, what the source of the girl's pain was; just as they knew there was only one thing they could to resolve it.

            "Mummy…" She whimpered, her small five-foot-one frame finally stilling, and revealing her emerald eyes slightly, "My brother…"

            "We know, love.  We're trying to find him." Minerva soothed, as she brushed the damp hair from the younger's pale, sweat-slicked forehead, "Do have any idea where he might be, Heather?"

            She shook her head, as another bout of phantom stomach pain hit her and her hands clenched involuntarily, "There's trees.  I don't…don't see anything…but trees."

            Minerva rested a hand on her goddaughter's abdomen and motioned to the mediwitch.  Poppy came rushing forward at the call, a goblet in her hand, but Heather wasn't fully aware of what was going on.  She flailed against the woman, spitting up what little had gotten past her lips.

            Severus approached and took the goblet, sitting down on the edge of the bed, "Drink it, sweetheart.  It'll help you." He coaxed, raising her head to meet it.

            Again she spat up a little, until her mind caught up to reality and she opened her mouth to accept the liquid.  The dreamless sleep potion took affect almost immediately, and her eyes drifted closed as she relaxed.

            "I shudder to think of what he must be going through, if this is what she's like." Pomfrey commented.

            The other three looked between themselves.  They hadn't thought of that – they'd been too busy caring for the teen to think of much anything else.

            Heather's tie to her brother had been forged almost fourteen years earlier by their parents, allowing her to feel his physical hurts.  And although there were times in her youth that she'd wished she didn't have the bond, everyday that You-Know-Who was gaining strength, she was grateful for it.  Especially after she'd been forced into hiding.

            "Poppy, you should go prepare for him at the school.  We'll bring Heather as soon as she's able to be moved." Albus instructed and then watched as she left, before turning to his two companions, "We have to find him soon or we might lose him.  Please, join the others looking for him.  I'll stay with her."

            Minerva and Severus nodded, placed kisses on the girl's forehead, and, reluctantly, left.

            "Oh, Heather…" Albus murmured.  He seated himself at her side to wait for consciousness to wake her.

-*-*-

            Harry James Potter tripped over his feet as he stumbled down the near abandoned street, nearly missing falling flat on his face.

            The first days back with the Dursleys found him cooking, cleaning, mowing the lawn, washing the car, whitewashing the backyard fence, and other assorted tasks that he was used to, but the nights were worse than ever.  Beatings had never before been bad enough to break bones, just sprain and bruise – but this time Vernon could care less.  Harry's screams woke him at all hours of the night and Hedwig refused to stop flying around the house.

            But the absolute worst had come three weeks after the end of the school year.

            He'd been exhausted from an entire day of manual labor, combined with a healing broken leg, when he missed hearing his uncle's order to stay in his room while they had company.  He'd come down the stairs at eight, expecting to serve dinner – only to come face to face with a purple-faced Uncle Vernon.  The man had quickly explained away Harry's sudden appearance, and when the guest had gone, dragged him out of the house.

            "Let's see what a few days on the streets will teach you." He'd practically laughed, as he placed the boy's school trunk on the ground beside the huddled mass that was his nephew.

            Harry had quickly shrunk the trunk to pocket size, and began walking down the line of shops.  He had very little pocket money, but he knew that if he ate just once every other day and collected some rain water, he would be good for a while.

            Life on the streets proved harder than he had thought, however.  Other beggars and homeless people fought him for no reason, beat him to the point of being unable to move for an entire day, and, while screaming, raped him.

            All the while unaware that his every pain could be felt – and tolerated for the most part.

            But three days before, Malfoy had found him.  He was too weak to fight back when the Cruciatus curse the first time, and totally unprepared to do anything more than whimper.  He blacked out, but when he came to he knew immediately that he'd once again lost a piece of his innocence to fate.

            When lucidity had once again become his friend, he limped his way further and further from the city, heading southwest in the general direction of Ottery St. Catchpole.  He still had a month left of summer vacation, so he hoped that by some stroke of luck he might make it to The Burrow where he could gratefully pass out in to the arms of Molly Weasley.

            Harry, by then, felt as though someone was following him.  He had no clue that he had been watched through every violation and beating as he left London, traveling further and further from the safety of the city.

            **You've never been alone.** The feminine voice teased, **Mum and Dad made sure of that.**

            He didn't answer the voice, as he usual.  To the boy, it seemed as if he'd known the owner at one time, but he'd been unable to ever figure out who the woman was.

            Stumbling again, he landed face first into the grass at the side of the road, too tired to stand up again.

            **Where are you? ** It asked.

            Potter was quite surprised – the voice had never asked him a direct question before, _I don't know.  Close to Winchester, I think._

            **There have been search parties looking for you for days now.**

            _Really?_

            **Would I lie to you?**

            He allowed himself a laugh.  All his life, when things were tough, he'd had the voice in his mind to help him through his days.  And it had never lied to him.

            **We're going to meet soon, Harry.  I promise you that.  You deserve to know who the invader in your head has always been.**

            _You've never been an invader._

            **You say tomato, I say tomatoe.**

            Footsteps crunched the ground behind him, and he tensed.  A hand came down on his thin shoulder, "Harry?  Harry, it's me.  Come on now, open your eyes." Charlie Weasley coaxed, before looking up at an approaching figure, "He's alright, Ron.  Go tell Dad, I'll take him to Hogwarts."

            As he felt himself being lifted of the ground, Harry watched a mass of red hair take off in the opposite direction, school robes flaring out behind him.  Then the darkness took him, and a soft whisper told him she'd be waiting.

-*-*-

            "I never thought we'd see the two of them together." Minerva whispered, taking in the sight of Heather and Harry side-by-side.

            "Yes…" Arthur sighed, "But we now have other problems that maybe more than we can handle.  Especially if she's going to be in the school."

            Albus shook his head, understanding the intent of the speaker, "No.  He cannot know yet.  He must recover from this summer's events before we tell him."

            "He deserves to know." Severus murmured.

            "And he will.  When he is ready to hear it."

            A commotion outside the curtains drew their attentions, "Please.  We just want to see him and then we'll go!" Ron's voice came through, and his father sighed, knowing exactly who else would be with the fifteen-year old.

            "I'll get them." He muttered and walked away from the group.

            As predicted, twins Fred and George, Hermione Granger, and Ron were accosting Madam Pomfrey, who was looking very tired.

            "The four of you can see Harry in a few hours when he's feeling better." Arthur informed, slowly pressing them backward and out of the room, "He isn't even awake yet."

            "Can't we just see that he's okay for ourselves, Dad?  Just a few seconds." The youngest redhead present begged.

            "No, son.  I'm sorry, but everyone needs to rest – especially Harry."

            Defeated, the four teenagers walked away and made for their dorms; since there was no way in hell they'd be leaving the castle anytime soon.  Arthur rejoined his comrades, after watching their retreating backs.

            "I've kept them away for now, but I'll put galleons to pumpkin juice that one of them is going to use that invisibility cloak to sneak in here."

            Dumbledore nodded, "Severus, would it be too much trouble to ask you to prepare your spare room for Heather?  Now that Harry is safely returned to us, I don't believe that she's in danger any longer."  
            Snape wanted to snort at the statement; instead he nodded dully and disappeared from the ward.

            "She's going to be very angry in the morning." The woman sighed, "You know Heather doesn't like being protected."

            "Heather will listen to reason, just as she always has." Came the soft reply, as he patted the eighteen-year old's arm, "She knows I would never ask her to stay, if I didn't believe the danger was serious."  
            McGonagall knew by the sound of his voice that he was hiding something from her, and she narrowed her eyes at him, "You know something you aren't tell me, Albus."

            "When doesn't he know something he doesn't tell the rest of us?" The strained, whisper-soft voice interrupted.

            Both adults looked up to see Heather lying semi-awake, her right hand resting on her forehead and rubbing her left temple.  Her skin had regained some of its color, though not much considering her skin was already quiet pale from the Irish heritage running through her veins, and she'd stopped sweating.

            "How are you feeling?" Albus asked, eyes trained on the green ones that had finally focused.

            "Like I've been run over by a tractor-trailer." She half-moaned, removing her hand and trying to sit up, "It's an American thing." The redhead told him, upon realizing he likely didn't know what she meant, "How's my brother?"

            "He's very, very ill, but he will live." Poppy cut in, "As will you."

            "And that's a surprise, how?" The humor coloring her words let all know she was definitely feeling better.

            "Heather, that was the worst we've ever seen you react."

            Something dawned on her and she sat up completely, looking around for any sight of the brunet named Harry.  She turned to look to her right and breathed a huge sigh of relief, "There you are." The redhead lisped, reaching forward hesitantly to touch him, but was thwarted by the white-haired man.

            "Not yet.  Let him recover first."

            She nodded and pulled her arm back to herself, "He looks so weak.  So…defeated."

            "That's probably the way he feels." The mediwitch answered, "Which brings us back to you."

            "The more I talk, the better I feel."

            Rolling her eyes, Pomfrey smiled, "You say that, yet we all know you're lying."  
            "Hey, worked when I was a kid."

            "And it stopped working when you were in your fourth year and I realized you're not up to par for days after those visions."

            "This wasn't a vision though." Heather countered.

            "No, this was full magical connection of two ill and injured people through a moderately used mental channel, which is dangerous to begin with as well as physically draining on the older of the pair."

            "How is it you can explain that down to the last detail, but you refused to give me that stupid sex talk?"

            "Because I thought your godparents were best left to explain it."

            "Oh, yeah, they did a great job – they asked Uncle Albus.  Lord, that was the last thing I needed to here.  The word 'sex' coming out of his mouth…" She mock-shivered.

            The witch decided to ignore the comment at the smiling look on the Headmaster's face, and finished her brief exam, "Severus is preparing a room for you in the dungeons."

            "Good.  I'd ask to go home, but seeing as my house has been destroyed, I guess I'll have to stay."

            "What!?" Minerva glared at Albus, "That's what you didn't tell us?"  
            "She was safely away by the time the wards stopped working and the house was burned to the ground before I was even alerted that the Death Eaters had found it.  I saw no reason to alarm you."

            Still fuming when the potions master returned, the woman was barely able to contain whatever it was that she wanted to say to her oldest friend, but managed to follow Snape as he carried their goddaughter to the dungeons.

            "I will never understand how, after being mostly raised by them, Heather isn't very good at potions or transfigurations or where she got that personality of hers!"

            The headmaster merely smirked again and left for his office – there were letters to be sent.

-*-*-

Hey, short first chapter…that's definitely a change of pace.

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com

08-28-02


	2. Chapter Two

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Two

-*-*-

            Heather tossed again in the bed her godfather had prepared, trying to fall asleep, but was not even getting close.

            "I've got a sleep potion brewing, so I suggest you beat me to the punch." The man warned, flipping a page in the book he was reading.

            "Promise me something."  
            He looked up, surprised, "What?"

            "I'm going to be around for the new school year, so you have to promise me that you'll go easier on my brother."

            "Heather, child, you know…"

            "I know why you do it, I know it's partially because of Daddy and partially because of me, but you have to promise me.  His mind and his soul aren't up to it.  I don't think I could bear to hear you say anything harsh to him.  So you have to promise me."

            "I can't promise you that, love."

            She forced herself into a sitting position, despite the pain that was ever-present in her head and stomach, "No.  Uncle Severus, you have to promise me or I will take him and leave.  Sirius will gladly take us both into hiding, which would not be something good since Harry's still in training."  
            "Heather, you are treading dangero…"  
            Unfortunately for the raven-haired man, he was unable to finish, when Albus entered the room, "Ah, still awake, Heather?"  
            "'Fraid so.  I'm trying to make Uncle Severus see reason." She settled back against the pillows.

            "About?"

            "His attitude toward Harry during the school year."

            The Headmaster let out an 'um hum', before saying, "I agree with her, Severus."

            Snape sighed, "He won't go after me, you know.  If I'm acting nice to him, the Dark Lord will know that he is weak and attack him.  I'll suffer eventually, yes, but he will go to Harry first.  Of that I am sure."

            "Not if I'm here.  No one on their side would be stupid enough to attack Harry or Hogwarts, as long as he and I are together.  You know that." She told him, indignantly.

            "I will not endanger either his life!  And I certainly won't leave yours to chance!" The potions master exclaimed, rising to his feet as he did so.

            Minerva chose that moment to join them and was quickly informed of what the ruckus was about, "I want to side with you, Severus, but Heather is right.  When I was leaving, Poppy was trying to get Harry to drink a dreamless sleep potion…his cries…" She shuddered, "No child on this planet can handle that amount of pain and hatred, as well as having insults thrown at him everyday by a teacher.  I don't know what we're going to do about Draco Malfoy."

            "He's crying?" Heather's eyes began to water, and she hastily began to try to stand.

            "Heather Lily Potter, you stay in that bed!" The older woman growled.

            "Not if he needs me."

            Albus laid a hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down, "We will take care of your brother for now.  You cannot help him if you are still sick."

            "I'm not sick!  Don't you three understand that?  I only get sick after visions!" She started to raise her voice, until her eyes met Dumbledore's, "I'm not a baby anymore.  I don't need to be coddled and protected."

            "And we aren't doing that.  We're just seeing to it that you return to your normal state, and when you're better, you won't have to be down here with your godfather.  I've already started the house-elves on your room.  I thought a somewhere near the Gryffindor tower would be to your liking."  
            She relented, and moved herself back into the comfortable grove she'd made, "You know, I can't help but notice that I'm falling asleep in a bed that's in the middle of the sitting room.  Which means this was conjured.  So at what point during the night am I going to wake up on the floor?"

            "It's not conjured.  It's from Aunt Minerva's guest room." Snape replied, sitting back down to occupy his favorite chair once again.

            A few minutes of silence, then, "So what am I supposed to be teaching?"

            "The only opening is Defense Against the Dark Arts.  And I would like to give the position to you, Severus, but I'd rather not have Heather teaching your class."

            The aforementioned teenager put on a look of disdain, but broke into a smile upon remembering what had the headmaster to actually admit she and potions weren't a good mix, "Hey!  I believe I was the only one injured by that explosion."  
            "My classroom was smoking for two weeks!" Severus threw at her.

            She laughed heartily, holding her ribs, "Merlin, I forgot about that!" But her mind caught up to her and her concern once again hit on Harry, "I want to stay with him."

            "Stay with who?"  
            "Cornelius Fudge…who do you think?" She noticed the skeptical look in her aunt's eyes, "I've got my invisibility cloak.  No one will see me."

            "In the morning, you may see him.  And no matter how many times you ask, that will be your answer." Albus informed her, motioning for the raven-haired man to go check on the brewing sleep potion.

            "Can't blame a girl for trying."

            Any retort to her statement was cut off, Severus was walking back into the room, holding goblet of purple liquid in his hand, "Drink it, Heather." He ordered, handing it to her.

            "I can fall asleep on my own."  
            "Not only is that a blatant lie, you and I both know you are trying to stay awake so you can sneak up to the hospital wing." He wrapped his hand around hers and pressed it back, trying to get her to drink.

            "I'm not four.  I think I know how to drink out of a goblet." She was getting angry, but stuffed it down as far as she could.  She quickly took a swig after ripping his hand away, tipping her head back, and fell into the blissful darkness being offered.

            Snape caught the cup before it was released from her grip, and settled her into a position a little more conducive to healing.  He returned to his chair and stared up at his peers, "The Gryffindor tower?"

            "She was a Gryffindor, wasn't she?  I thought she might also appreciate being close to Harry."

            Minerva nodded, "And the students might actually listen to her."

            "The girls will listen to her – the boys will drool." The potions master wasn't happy.

            "The boys can dream all they want, Severus.  They're teenagers."

            An argument was about to break out, of that Dumbledore was sure, and he left the room with a last glance toward the girl.

-*-*-

            When dawn had come, Heather was feeling once again like herself – but a few floors up, Harry was struggling to wake up, while his friends fought to be admitted to see him.

            "Please?  We'll go in one at a time?" Fred asked, albeit meekly.

            Arthur Weasley sighed, and walked out from behind the curtains, "It's okay, Poppy.  Harry'll be awake soon anyway." He informed, which seemed to appease the mediwitch.  He led them into the small cubicle, conjured chairs, then promptly sat back down to wait for Dumbledore to arrive.

            "What happened to him, Dad?" Ron asked, after a few minutes of silence had passed.

            "I don't think I should be the one to tell you that, son." He replied, resting a hand on the teen's shoulder, "Harry has to do that for himself."

            Ron and Hermione nodded, but the twins knew something was up.  The look in their father's eyes – which the younger two had completely missed, had told them volumes.  They simply remained quiet until the headmaster came and the eldest Weasley rose to leave, "Dad?  Can we talk you for a minute?" George asked, and received a nod.

            Once the three had cleared earshot of Harry's bed, Fred asked, "He's been hurt badly this time, hasn't he?"

            Arthur was momentarily stunned, then, "This time?"

            "You haven't seen where the Dursleys' have been making him live.  There are bars on his window."

            "They lock him in all day and give him food through a cat flap in the door."

            The Ministry official sighed, "It wasn't only them.  Some…other things happened to him as well, and I need your word that neither of you will pressure him to tell you, or Ron, or Hermione, or anyone else about what has happened until he says he's ready."

            The duo looked between each other sadly, and nodded, "We promise.  And we won't tell Ron or Hermione."

            "Thank you." He breathed, hugged them both as tightly as possible, and, with a longing glance back, disappeared into the corridor.

            Fred and George just looked at their feet for a few moments, trying to regain some sort of calm when a small body knocked through them and fell to the floor, followed by, "Heather Lil…"

            The owner of the voice, Professor McGonagall had spotted them, "Good morning, boys.  Came to see Harry, I trust?"

            "Yes, ma'am." Fred replied.

            "I assume your father has left for the day?"

            George's turn, "Yes, ma'am."

            "Do have some faith.  Harry's very strong and if your new D.A.D.A. teacher has her way, he'll always have someone to talk to while he gets better."

            "That was our new teacher?" Both blurted it out, stunned – she couldn't have been more than a few years older than them!

            Minerva allowed herself a small smile, before returning to her normal mask, "Yes.  A trifle young, yes, but she does have experience, I am unhappy to say.  And Remus Lupin has been teaching her for ages."

            That got a rather pleasant reaction from the two teenage boys, who had promptly begun smiling and hopping from one foot to the other.  They sobered, however, when the other two Gryffindors appeared, misty-eyed and very unhappy.

            "Professor Dumbledore says we have to have breakfast and then we can come back in an hour." Hermione managed, stalking past the twins.  The trio of red-heads followed numbly after her, and the Transfigurations teacher moved to join the others.

            "Ah, I see Harrison Potter has joined us." She smiled at the half-lidded boy, "How are you feeling, Harry?"  
            He closed his eyes, as if gathering energy, and spoke, "Ti…tired, Ma…Ma'am."

            Heather looked up at her godmother, "If Madam Pomfrey has anymore sleep potion, perhaps Harry should take some." She caught the appreciative look on his face, "Gain back some of your energy, and then I'll let them accost you." She teased.

            Realization dawned in Harry, "You…you're…the voi…voice."

            She merely smiled and took the offered goblet.  Holding his head firmly in one hand, she pressed the edge of the golden container to his lips and helped him to drink, "Slowly, now.  You can always take more…" She murmured, comfortingly, as he gulped down the liquid.  After another few minutes passed, he was asleep and she kissed his forehead.

            "Happy to be with him again, Heather?"

            "You have no idea, Uncle Albus."

            "Ah, well, you always have been rather attached to him." He smiled at a memory, and, with some prodding from her inquisitive look, told her, "Of all the children I've ever known, you are the only one who never asked her parents for anything beyond something to eat or play with; you never misbehaved around company, and was always polite; you doted on him, which I know your mother appreciated.  I cannot seem to recall a time when your parents weren't proud of you."

            "Dad used to call me perfection." She grinned, "But it's been my gift's doing.  I had an inkling that I wasn't going to be with them for too terribly long and I just couldn't be as bad as some other kids…I wanted their memories of me and my memories of them to be happy ones.  Ones I could pass on to the little brother I knew I was going to have."

            Dumbledore nodded, "I wish that your gift could have given you a happier childhood, Heather."

            "So do I." She lisped, wiping a stray tear and sniffing.  A thought came to her mind, "I heard you telling the Weasley twins about my position here.  What exactly are we going to tell the school?  I think they're going to notice that I'm only eighteen.  Not to mention that I don't want to be called 'Professor' in any way, shape, or form."

            "We are going to tell them the truth.  That you are here because your safety has been compromised, and that you will be assuming a teaching role." He explained calmly, "As for what they will call you, that is your decision.  I would prefer if you allowed them to call you something with a Miss in front of it, but as you said, you are eighteen."

            "Thank you." She smiled gratefully, and looked back at the soon-to-be fifteen year old, "Sleep well, Harry." She slipped from the edge of the hospital bed, and made her way toward the Great Hall.

-*-*-

            By the time the girl reached her destination, two hours later as she'd stopped back in the dungeons and ended up taking a short nap, the other current teenage occupants of the castle were leaving for the Hospital Wing.  Ron and Hermione looked at her curiously, while Fred and George let themselves look at her knowingly.

            "Hello." She managed, her voice tired and scratchy.

            The only one not partially entranced by her replied, "Hello.  I'm Hermione." She held out a hand, and was pleased to have it shook in greeting.

            "Heather."  
            "Are you a transfer student?"

            The redheaded girl laughed, "Umm, no.  I've actually been coerced into teaching." Taking the crestfallen look on her soon-to-be pupil's face, she added, "But I get that student thing a lot.  I only graduated two years ago."

            "Oh.  So you're nineteen?"

            "Eighteen."

            "But you said you graduated…"

            "…Two years ago.  Due to something that happened in my past, during the years Voldemort was at full strength, I had to go into hiding.  My parents were killed and my godparents feared for my safety.  So I moved around, went to all the different schools, with the exception of Durmstrang.  Though I tend to believe that the school I am an alumni of is Howarts.

            "By the time I was fifteen, I had taken every course possible.  But I didn't want to leave my friends, so I stayed an extra year as a teacher assistant at the Salem Witches' Institute.  A few of my friends graduated that year, and I did as well."

            Hermione's interest was piqued, "Do you think I could do the same?"

            Ron snickered, and continued walking after politely welcoming her to the school.  Fred and George nodded their greeting, and followed their younger brother.

            "I guess I should go with them."

            "I would.  Never put academics before friendship – despite what the teachers might say." Heather advised, her eyes twinkling in a fashion much like Dumbledore's, before turning and entering the Great Hall.

            Granger sighed, took the path her friends had, and arrived in the Hospital wing to find Harry sitting up quite on his own and smiling weakly.

            "Harry!"

            "Hi, Hermione." His smile broke into a grin as she ran forward to hug him as tight as possible, "Uh, 'Mione, you think you could…let me breathe?"

            She released him as though on command, "What happened?"

            He tensed at the question and she chose to drop it, "I'm sorry if I scared you."

            "It's alright.  I'm just glad Charlie found you.  We'd been searching for days, and it wasn't looking very good."

            "I kept moving." He shrugged, "I was trying to get to the Burrow."

            "From Surrey?"

            "Yeah."

            Hermione restrained the 'are you insane?!' comment that was threatening to break forth from her lips, and looked around at the other teachers there – Snape and Dumbledore.

            "Are you hungry?" Ron asked, noting the thinness of his friend.

            "A little."

            "I'll go get something." The redhead happily started to get off the bed.  
            But the green-eyed boy made him pause with the next comment, "You don't have to."

            "I want to." He scurried from the room in a dead run, and, sensing the need for privacy, the teachers told them they'd be with Madam Pomfrey, then walked away.

            "How long are they keeping you here for?" Fred asked.

            "I don't know.  Professor Dumbledore doesn't want me to leave until there's 'someone to watch me'."

            George gulped, "Why'd he say that?"

            "Something about what happened over the summer.  I only remember Uncle Vernon throwing me out and then deciding to go to Ottery St. Catchpole to find you guys.  Everything else is blurry."

            The twins exchanged a look that was understood to mean 'this is not good'.

            "So you don't remember much else?"

            "No." Harry was getting worried – what was he missing? "Why do you ask?"

            Fred shook his head, "No reason.  Just curious." He changed the focus of the subject as quickly as he could, "Maybe the headmaster would let all of us stay for the rest of the summer here.  We could hang out with you."

            "You'd really spend your summer here?  With me?  Are you sure?  I wouldn't want to ruin any plans you've made." The feel of sorrow that rolled with the words was unnerving to those who knew him so well.

            "I see I've arrived just in time." Heather's sudden appearance startled Hermione, who's back was to the other girl, but not unwelcome.  Ron was with her, a full tray of breakfast food and drink in his hands, which he set down on the night-table and passed the fork to the bedridden boy.

            The new teacher watched him eat a few bites of egg and toast before speaking again, "I've been talking to the others, and we've come to the conclusion that you, my friend, cannot be left alone.  It's not that we don't trust you, Harry, it's what will happen when you remember everything that has happened a little more clearly.  As soon as you four get permission, you can settle into Gryffindor Tower," She directed that to all of the students before her, "and I hope it will be okay if I join you.  I haven't been in the common room in **ages**."

            "That's fine with us." George flashed one of his mischevious grins.

            "Don't think about it, Mr. Weasley.  I am well aware of your pranks.  My best friends are Dorothea and Thomas Kayesfort." She informed, and the boy backed off – one canary cream to the other set of Gryffindor twins and they were forever getting back at him, "Harry, there are some other rules I need to tell you.  If there is something that is causing you mental anguish or physical pain, you must tell someone.  You don't need to pick one person to tell.  You can tell me something, Professor Dumbledore another, and Ron something else.  But if you hold it in and tell no one, veritaserum will be used.  Arthur Weasley secured permission for us.  I promise that I'll try to avoid using it and will try to stall the other teachers, but I'm going to need your help, okay?"

            He nodded.

            "Also, this apologizing for everything that we know you're just bursting with is not acceptable.  You have done nothing wrong to warrant an apology as of yet.  Nothing that has happened is your fault.  Everyone here is very willing to tell you that.  But you cannot keep that in either, so you will be allowed two or three apologies a day."

            Ron snorted.

            "Something funny?" She looked at the boy, "I assure you, Youngest Mr. Weasley, that Harry would be apologizing non-stop if we let him."

            Something in Harry's eyes told the others that she was right, and another topic was dropped.  The boy in question spoke up, "Are all the teachers here?"

            "No.  The Headmaster was working on some things for the next school year with Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape is here at my request, and Madam Pomfrey was taking care of me then you.  They, and Mr. Filch are the only ones who are here."

            "Prosfessor Snape?" He asked, wearily.

            "I promise that the potions teacher you know isn't here.  At the moment," Her voice rose, "he's being himself!" She shouted the last part with a smirk, "He's my godfather, and I promise you that Professor Snape can be nice – and he will be.  Unless of course, he wants me to drive him out of his mind.

            "Now, I say we let Harry get a little more sleep.  Despite what his mind believes, his energy levels are low." She pulled Hermione from the covers, "We can go get permission from your parents, and come back."

            "Alright.  We'll see you later, Harry."

            "Have a nice nap." The twins wished in unison, and the group left.

            _'This is going to be a long summer.'_ He thought as he drifted off, seeing the two teachers take seats beside his bed.

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com 


	3. Chapter Three

A/N: Okay, so I thought I'd be getting these chapters out faster, but I've got a bunch of higher level classes – and the homework load leaves something to be desired when it comes to time to write.

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Three

-*-*-

            A few hours later, while Harry slept on, Heather and crew had settled all their things into their various rooms.  The eldest girl had happily declared that, though she had a room of her own, she wanted to sleep in the tower – which soon turned into a chorus of "let's sleep here'.  Here being the common room.  Several red and gold sleeping bags ended up spread out on the floor, where they began to relax.

            And thus twenty questions began.

            "So what's your middle name?"

            "How many countries have you been to?"  
            "What do you want us to call you?"

            She held up her hand to stop the barrage, smirking as she did so, and spoke, "My middle name is Lilandra." _'Lily…Lilandra…Eh, close enough…'_ She thought, before continuing, "And I'm not really sure how many.  Umm, let's see…there is England, of course, Scotland, Ireland, France, Russia, Italy, Latvia, Slovenia, Australia, The States, Norway, Austria, Chile, Canada, Greenland, Egypt, Morocco, and Greece."

            That elicited a collective 'wow.'

            "And as for what I want to be called…I think in class Miss Paddock will suffice.  But out of class, you'd better call me Heather or I'll hex you." She said the last part with a fake serious expression on her face.

            The quartet laughed, then quieted and stared at the fire.  The dancing flames entrancing them – and Heather's eyes began to become gold.

            _"Gods, I haven't played Quidditch in **years**.  The last time I slugged some Ravenclaw for purposely knocking me out of the air."_

_            "You should see her ride!  It's like she's on a skateboard!"_

_            "Thomas, don't use Heath as your voyeur."_

_            "Thank you, Thea!"_

_            Darkness descended._

            _"No!  Let her go!" Harry screamed, his throat raw._

_            Darkness descended._

_            Flashes of gold.  Pinpricks of white light.  Fear._

_             "Listen to me, Harry!  Listen.  I could never tell you until now…it wasn't safe, but it doesn't matter any longer.  Harry, know this – you have a sister, and she loves you very, very much.  And no matter what happens, know that I'll always be with you."_

_            Tears._

_            And darkness descended._

            "Heather?" Severus' worried face came into view as she surfaced, "Are you alright?"

            She was still laying on her sleeping bag, but someone had laid her on her back, and beside her godfather, Poppy was staring at her while Minerva herded the others away.

            The redhead started to hyperventilate, latching on to him in a move that was faster than anything previous.

            "Heath, breath.  Come on, deep breaths.  You're having a panic attack.  You need to breathe." He rubbed her back, and breathed as deep as he wanted her to, knowing she would mimic his body's movement.

            And she did so, calming slowly until she could speak, "It's going to happen.  Everything will come to pass." The Eighteen-year old shivered, "I knew I should have fought Uncle Albus."

            "There was little you could have said that would have gotten him to change his mind." Snape smirked slightly, "He's just as stubborn as you. If not more."

            "Don't smile, Uncle Severus." She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed herself back so Heather could look him in the eyes, "When this happens, there won't be a damn thing on this planet that can stop some plans from being put into motion that could endanger us all.  Plans that are contingent upon my death."

            "I won't let that happen."

            "You don't have a choice."

            "The Order cannot…"

            Fire blazed in the deadly green orbs, "I am the Order.  The members will do what I tell them, whether they want to or not."

            "But…"

            "I need to stand up." She stated, and allowed him to pull her weary body from the ground, "Is dinner ready yet?"

            "Yes." The Headmaster answered warmly, as he entered, "Harry has been asking for you."

            "I know.  I can hear him." Heather smiled happily, "I'll go get him and come down to the Great Hall in a few minutes." She paused, then "Has Sirius been told yet?"

            The faculty members turned to their leader, and Dumbledore spoke, "I only told him that Harry was here at Hogwarts and was safe.  He has not replied yet."

            She nodded, and shifted her feet, while pushing her godfather's hands from her shoulders.  Her health had returned as quick as it had when she was a toddler, "Must be how close I am to him." She muttered, hoping no one heard.  Finally, a look of determination set on her features, before she headed for the portrait of the Fat Lady, "I'll meet you guys downstairs in twenty minutes." The redhead informed, without even glancing over her shoulder, as she stepped out into the corridor.

-*-*-

            _Your name is Heather, right? _

            **Right.** She replied, casually, approaching the door to the Hospital wing, **Heather Lilandra Paddock.**

            _Paddock?  That doesn't feel right._ He thought back, knowing that while he had never heard her be called by a last name, Paddock just didn't fit.

            She stalled for a second, thinking up a reply, **That's because it's not my real last name.** When all else fails – go with edited versions of the truth.

            _Then what's the real one? _

            **Sorry.  No dice.** She smirked, and appeared in front of his bed.  With a wave of her hand, she dismissed Pomfrey, took the vacated seat, before, "I'm not telling you the real one.  Not yet, at least."

            "Why?" He prompted, feeling around for his glasses.

            She sighed, "Your glasses were half-destroyed when they found you, Harry.  I can get you new ones, exactly the same as the old ones, if that's what you'd like, but it'll be a few days before they'd arrive."

            He nodded, "They looked like my father's." Smiling slightly, he added, "So why won't you tell me?"

            Heather couldn't help but grin at the boy, "It's like…for your entire life, you knew me as just a voice, as a person in the back of your mind helping you through hard times.  And as much as I wanted you to know me, since I knew you so well, I knew you weren't ready to hear it, to see me.  I wish I could tell you my name, Harry, but it won't be…right of me to tell you now."

            "I understand.  Everything in its own time, but will you ever tell me?" He pleaded to know.  He loved this girl – he knew her from long ago; somewhere in the back of his mind, there was the spark of a memory.  She was more than the Voice.

            "Some day.  Hopefully, soon.  However, I am waiting for Uncle Albus to able to say you are definitively safe."

            "Uncle?"

            "That's right…you don't know." The redhead transferred from the chair to the edge of the bed, "My parents died when I was very young, so I was raised by my godparents."

            "Snape?"

            "Yes, **Professor** Snape is my godfather."  
            Harry forced the pain back, and sat up to continue, "Who's your godmother then?"

            "Professor McGonagall."

            "Really?"

            "Yeah.  My dad picked her, my mom picked him."  
            "Why?"

            She smirked, "That is has always been your favorite word…" Heather received a laughing smirk in response, and explained, "My parents were still students when my mum found out she was going to have me.  The only people who knew where my father's godmother, Uncle Albus, and my mother's second best friend."

            "Was she a Slytherin?"

            "No.  Dad was a Gryffindor, and Mum…well, she spent the first two years in Ravenclaw until it came about that someone had tampered with the sorting and was placed in Gryffindor where she belonged."

            "Then how did she know him?"

            "I was sorted into the wrong house, too." Snape's voice, soft with compassion answered, "I was only in Slytherin for my first two years, then, when the Headmaster realized the hat had been cursed, I ended up in Gryffindor as well."

            Harry looked curiously at the teacher, "The hat was cursed?"

            "The Dark Lord had many followers here back then, Harry." He brushed some straying hair from the boy's eyes.  And to the Potions Master's amazement – the teenager did nothing to back away from the touch.  Severus spoke again, "Many who were fighting to be made a member of his inner circle would do literally anything – including cursing the damned hat."

            "You were in the same house as Dad?"

            "Yes.  And we were friends for a long time."

            "I thought…" He started, but Heather cut him off.

            Standing up, she spoke, "I think it's time to eat.  I suspect I was taking too long to go down to the Hall, so they sent Uncle Severus to corral us in that direction." As carefully as she could, she helped him to transfer from the bed to a wheelchair Poppy had left.

            "Can…can I walk?"

            "Yes, but it'll be insanely painful." She warned.

            He nodded his understanding and was content to be pushed by the enigma known as Heather.

-*-*-

            "Nice of you to join us." Minerva teased, as her goddaughter and student appeared.

            "Well, I thought it'd be a good idea.  Just so you knew I wasn't stealing him and running off." The young adult teased back, turning to help Potter to shift from the chair to the bench at the Gryffindor table, "That's it.  One leg first…" She coaxed, lifting him up from behind and maneuvering forward, "And now the other." She whispered, as his left foot slipped over the bench.

            Her godparents shared a knowing look, remembering back to a time long ago, before the Potions Master took a seat beside the Headmaster.

            "Thanks." The teenage boy told the redhead, once they both settled in front of their plates.

            "Not necessary." She grinned, seeing that the usual array of food was already laid out, and quickly began placing small bits onto both her plate and Harry's.

            Discussion quickly began between the limited residents of the castle, Quidditch popular as it was the boy's favorite sport.  Food was passed and devoured with much gusto, most trying to engage Harry in conversation unsuccessfully.

            A glance around the room told all what they wanted to know – he was thinking and mustn't be disturbed – as Heather lifted a spoonful of soup up to his lips.  Automatically he opened his mouth and swallowed, his glazed over eyes never deviating from staring at the space just above and beyond Hermione's head.

            It went on for a few moments before he began to shake, almost imperceptibly, prompting the newest teacher to lean over, and murmur into his ear, "Relax, Harrison.  It's over, and you are safe now.  You will never be hurt again." She repeated the soothing statements over and over until he calmed.

            Surfacing from the daze, he choked out, "They…they…"

            "I know." Her eyes were already misting, as she turned to face him crossing her legs and pulling him to her.

            He accepted her silent offer of comfort and placed his head against her shoulder, his right hand coming to rest on her shoulder, _I can't talk about…_   
            **Then don't.  It's alright – no one will force you to do that now.  I'll make sure of that.** She replied, brushing her hand up his forehead, brushing the messy hair from his eyes.

            _I'm sorry that I'm not stronger than this._

            **You have had to be strong your whole life, Love.  It's alright to stop now.  Harry, you are just a child.  I know you hate when I call you that, but it is exactly what you are and no one here expects you to be courageous all the time.**

            He looked up hesitantly, green eyes grazing up the pale skin to another set of shimmering emerald eyes, "I don't understand."

            Heather sighed and kissed his head, resting her chin in his hair, "Growing up you were their servant, a maid and a gardener.  You lived in a cupboard, inside of a house with abusive people.  You had to be strong to survive.  But those days are over, Love.  They are gone and over with.  It is okay to cry, and to show weakness – you are only human."

            He had silently, rhythmically clenching and unclenching his hands in her robes, an effort to stop himself from letting any salt-filled tears spill from his eyes – then she had said the last four words.  Slowly the soft weeping led to sobs until they shook his thin frame.

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com 


	4. Chapter Four

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Four

-*-*-

            Heather safely tucked the boy into his sleeping bag, "When he wakes up, he may not listen to you.  Just send for one of us and try to keep him from running away.  That'll be his first instinct." She warned.

            The teenagers nodded, while the adults that had followed exited.  The redhead turned to follow her godparents, but was stopped by Hermione's delicate hand.  She quickly looked to the eyes of the youth, "Something you want to know, Miss Granger?"

            "How do you know all this?  About what he would do, I mean."

            "Easy…I know his heart better than he does." She paused, "And it wasn't so long ago that I was in his shoes.  Not the same situation, but the same emotions.  The same pain that hurts right to your very soul as though it will never go away." The green eyes grazed the saddened face, "But he will heal, just as I did.  It is going to take time and patience to draw him out.  However, have no doubt that Harry will return."

            The brunette nodded, a headache already starting.  Her eyes closed, but her mouth opened to speak again – and when her eyelids opened, Hermione Granger found herself speaking to dust.

            Fred and George had disappeared while the two young women had been talking, but returned to find Harry and Ron dozing contentedly and the only woman to their group staring, glassy-eyed, at the back of The Fat Lady's portrait.  They let her alone, wanting her to snap out of it herself, instead choosing to sit down at the table with various papers in their hands.

            Eventually, with a tired sigh, the girl did return to lucidity, startled when she saw the twins looking at her.

            "What?"

            "Nothing." They answered in unison.

            "Have I ever told you two how creepy it is when you do that?" She grumbled, marching over to the duo, "What are you doing?"

            They shifted the stack of parchments and photographs, coming up with an adorable image of a healthy, pink – and screaming – baby boy in the arms of a ragged looking redheaded woman.  Fred continued his work, so he brother spoke, "Professor Dumbledore asked if we would make Harry another album of his family.  He gave us these at the end of the school year so it could get done for his birthday.  We were going to put charms to make it sing and all sorts of stuff, but we got a little sidetracked."

            She gave each a sympathetic look – everyone had stopped whatever they were doing when the news had come out that The-Boy-Who-Lived had gone missing, but the Weasleys had been, by far, the hardest workers.  "Would you like some help then?"

            "Sure." Fred replied, never lifting his eyes from the cream-colored pages of the leather bound book.

            "We're trying to organize them by years, so each of the pages are done accordingly.  He's working on the terrible twos right now.  It's going to howl when we're done." George whispered, keeping an eye on the two sleeping boys as she sat down beside him.

            With the ruffle of papers, the work continued well into the darkened night, stopping when either of the soon-to-be-fifth-years would roll over or moan softly in their slumber, and never speaking more than a few words or an incantation.  Until exhaustion caught up with them and each laid their heads on their crossed arms, closed their eyes.

-*-*-

            Heather slipped into the common room, her eyes set to laughing when she took in the sight of the various students – Hermione was laying with her head on her left arm, her right thumb set firmly in her mouth; Fred's face was hidden by the hand that was splayed over it, while George drooled onto the dark-stained oak table.  Harry was curled in the red-and-gold fabric, a slight smile on the normally-paled features the elven-maintained fire casting an orange hue on his skin, while causing Ron to be the same color as his warm-cinnamon colored hair.  The aforementioned Youngest Mr. Weasley was lying on his stomach, arms crossed beneath his pillow, emitting quiet snores from time to time.

            She crossed the room to the scarred boy, "Harry, time to wake up, Love.  Breakfast is going to be ready soon and if you miss it, Aunt Minerva will force feed you."

            "Um hum." He tightened his grip on the bag, and returned to his dreamland.

            Paddock was tempted to let him sleep, to let him escape reality if only for a little while longer, but from experience she knew that it was a bad idea, "I'll play Quidditch with you later and show you some new moves if you'll help me to wake up Ron."

            "Too tired." He mumbled.

            **I know you want to avoid this, but I promise I won't leave you.  I'll stay with you and get you through this.  However, it'll only work if you _wake up._** The laughter in the Voice was unmistakable.

            "Can't I…"

            "Ignore it and it will only get worse." She kissed his hair, "Now come on, I've got some things for us to do.  If you have some fun, maybe I can get Uncle Albus to stop hovering." The honey-colored hand swung through the air behind her, landing on the ankle of Dumbledore, "Invisibility is a privilege – not a toy to be used for spying."

            The white-haired man appeared with the twinkle returned to his eyes, "I'll wake Miss Granger."

            "Good idea." The laughter appeared again, "Come now, let's beat your friends down to the hall."

            "Why?"

            "I got you something special for your birthday." The fact came out of her mouth as though it were an everyday occurrence.

            The embers that were once his happy spirit started to glow and warm in his chest.  A memory was fighting to come to the surface, but it was hazy, and he allowed himself to revel in the thought that he got a present from the person before him, "What…what is it?"

            "Can't tell you.  It's a 'gotta see' type present." She helped him to sit up, "I'll go get your chair."

            "No.  I want to walk." He noticed the hesitant look in her eyes, "If it's okay."

            The edges of her eyes crinkled, "You can do whatever you please."

            "Heather, why don't I help Harrison to get ready while you finish up downstairs?" The eldest in the room suggested.

            "Would that be alright with you?"

            Potter was suddenly aware of her question hanging in his mind.  He thought for a moment then nodded, "Yeah.  Just one thing – is it a big present?"

            The hopeful expression in her direction broke her heart, as it reminded her of what he had been deprived, "I think so."

            His face lit up and he jumped to his feet, before running up the stairs to his trunk for clothes.

            "He doesn't have any clothes that fit properly…" She trailed off, knowing her uncle would understand, then leaving the room with a dim smile on her face.

            "Professor?" Ron rubbed his eyes.  The stampeding Harry had woken the boy, who had groggily begun to realize what was going on.

            "Good Morning, Ronald.  Why don't you go get dressed?" Dumbledore directed, waking the twins as Hermione yawned.

            "Yes, sir." He rolled to his feet and trudged up the creaking wood stairs, unsurprised to find his best friend slowly picking out an outfit, "I might have something you could fit in."

            He breathed a sigh of dead relief, "You're sure?"

            Excitedly, Ron ripped through his worn trunk, coming up with a pair of faded-blue jeans and a red Gryffindor t-shirt, "Professor Dumbledore will shrink them if they're too big."

            "Thank you." He clutched the items to his chest, grabbing a pair of underwear and disappeared out the dormitory door.

            Soon, the redhead followed the same path and entered the bathroom to find one of the bathtubs surrounded by the curtain, a chair housing the select pieces of wardrobe, "Harry?"

            "Yes?" The voice sounded excited, the smile almost palpable.

            "Just checking if you were in there or if I could tease one of my brothers." He slipped into the shower.

-*-*-

            A few minutes later, a bubbling Harry and his cohorts were dressed, raring to go.  Severus and Minerva had joined the group, stunning their students with their casual attire of slacks and button-down shirts.

            "Ready, Harry?" McGonagall grinned.

            "Yes!" He shouted, then caught himself as the adults nodded to each other and removing themselves from the room.

            With an extra hop in their step, the entire group made their way down the shifting staircases, into the antechamber, stopping at the huge doors.

            The Potions Master produced a blindfold, "I don't think you like the idea of wearing one right now, so would you prefer if you close your eyes and someone covers them?"

            The birthday boy nodded, removing the silver frames he was currently having to wear, and let the lashes drift to his thinned cheeks.  A large hand snaked around his head to rest lightly on his face, the other hand gingerly grasping one of Potter's.  The realization set in that it was Snape's long fingers, but it was not repulsive as it once would have been – because he knew Heather was protecting him.

            Slowly, he heard the others enter the room and his heart raced, causing the raven-haired man to start to remove his hands.

            "No.  It's alright." The youth murmured, and felt the hand return again.

            The sound of the doors opening incited his spirit again, and once the teacher pressed the boy forward, it was an all-out effort to not laugh hysterically.  The sweeping sound that signified the closing of the great doors, caused the elder man to lift his shield, and Harry opened his eyes.

            To find Sirius, Remus, the entire Weasley family, Hermione's parents, and several of the fifth years lazing about, gifts piled high on the Hufflepuffs' table.  The candles that normally floated above their heads were replaced with glittering stars and Muggle Christmas lights; a huge banner relaying the message 'Happy birthday, Harry!' was floating by the fireplace.

            "For me?" He asked, when Heather appeared from behind a blue-haired man.

            "All for you." She hugged him, and when she let go, the boy immediately recognized the man and the woman standing beside him.

            "Thomas!  Thea!" He raced forward to hug them both at the same time.

            Blue-haired, but brown-eyed Thomas Kayesfort was of a stature that would intimidate most people, except by those who knew him, who understood that his demeanor was a kind one, borne of a happy childhood.

            His twin sister was the ideal Swedish god – blonde-haired and blue-eyed with fair skin.  At five-foot-eleven, she was slightly shorter than her brother, but her stubbornness and determined personality made up for the physical deficiency.

            "Hey, buddy.  How's it going?" Thomas ruffled the younger's hair, as Heather started the music.

            "I'm alright."

            "Sorry that you got pinned with our wonderful best friend."

            He shook his head, glanced at his friends, and spoke, "I like her."

            Thomas and Thea laughed, "Go hang with your friends." The girl smiled, "We'll catch up with you later."

            The scarred boy hugged each again and disappeared in to the steadily growing crowd, only to be replaced by a redhead with a wick grin on her face.

            "Are you sure you're on the right side?" He teased.

            "Hey, he deserves it.  After all those years of living with the Dursleys and never having any day just for him…"

            "I get it.  Just ribbing you." The eighteen-year old continued, "So have they been grilling you?"  
            Paddock shook her head, "Not really.  They've been asking about where I've been, my name, my alumnus.  I think the Weasley twins are starting to get an inkling about me and Harrison, but they haven't said anything to anyone."

            "Good to know." Thea allowed her eyes to wander from student to student, "It seems so long ago that we were here."

            "Your leaving was your fault.  I had to leave.  You dopes should've stayed."

            "It was the end of fourth year.  We didn't think we'd end our education in Salem."

            The conversation, much like everything else, kept on in the same way, all three hinting toward the secret, but never saying it out loud – if one of the other students heard before Heather had a chance to explain, it could be devastating to Harry.  Finally, gift time arrived and the twins moved forward to watch the extravaganza of wrapping paper and ribbon.

            The redhead, however, stayed behind to talk to the animagus who had suddenly appeared, "Hey, Siri."

            He groaned, "Must you call me that?"

            "But of course." She giggled, "So, happy to see that he's aright?"

            "He's only physically well, and yes, I'm glad to see that.  His mind, on the other hand…"

            She nodded, "He's smiling now.  We got that much and this is a few days after we found him.  I thought I'd still be fighting with him to accept the help that we're offering him, but he's taken to it right away."

            Black smiled, "Because it was you that offered it first.  He has written me about 'The Voice' on many occasions, and you have no idea how hard it was for me not to tell him exactly who you are.  He has an idea that he knew you once, yet isn't sure how."

            "He'll find out soon." She informed, "Uncle Albus is going to want to kill me when I do, but he can't get back into the school year with the belief that he has been orphaned once again.  Besides, Draco Malfoy knows my real name.  He knows my last name is Potter.  Give him time and a half and he'll know we're related."

            A cheer erupted from the group surrounding the birthday boy, and both decided it was time to join their friends in celebrating the tired young man.

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie  *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com

http://www.cassie-jamie.com


	5. Chapter Five

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Five

-*-*-

            "Thea just hauls off and decks this other girl!" Thomas laughed as he finished his story, "To this day she has no idea why she got into trouble!"

            Everyone chuckled and giggled at the last sentence, a sound that all had become acclimated to.

            The party had continued for well over three hours until Sirius had to go to avoid being seen by Fudge, who'd popped into to check on the boy himself.  Remus skipped out twenty minutes later to get some lesson plans together, so Heather would have both an example of what she needed to do as well as have emergency plans on reserve.  Arthur Weasley was called away by the Ministry for a last-minute raid, the teachers disappearing with him.

            "Hey, Heath?" Thea leaned over, "Do you think Dumbledore'd let us use the Pitch?"

            "Maybe.  I'll go find him and ask." The redhead raised her hand, placing it against her best friend's head, "I didn't give Harry his other gift.  Give it to him for me."

            "Don't you want to?" She asked when the other moved away.

            "I do, but they all **have** been gone a little too long and I really wanna go find out what they are up to." She sighed, "Especially if it means that Uncle Severus is going out."

            The Swede nodded, and shoved her friend off the table.  A polite smile washed away any thought of anger, as Heather left the Great Hall.  "Hey, Harry.  Come 'ere." She called.

            He approached calmly, but hesitantly, and spoke as well as he could, "Yes, Thea?"

            "Heather got you something else, okay?  She wanted to give it you herself, but whenever the faculty disappears for more than five minutes, it usually means they're up to something.  She went to check on them.  Sooo, that means I get to give you…this." A box had appeared beside her hand.  It was wrapped in white paper, and was more proportioned for office supplies than a gift.

            Slowly, he pulled the paper from the carton, delicately removed the bow, then proceeded to tear it open.

            Several books and multiple outfits in the colors of the rainbow were laid one on top of the other.  At the bottom, a warm-looking robe of forest-green velvet invited his touch, evoking a tiny memory.

            "This was Dad's."

            The blonde girl smiled, "It was."

            Nestled within the robe was a hand-carved box.  The initials L.P. carved into the lid, and the Hogwarts symbol embossed into a small piece of gold sealed into the wood on the front panel.  With the same amount of care that he would handle a newborn, Harry opened his mother's keepsake home.

            Inside two Muggle pictures of assorted people were held in place with magic – one of the Marauders as Heather had identified them; James, Lily, Peter, Sirius, Remus, Severus, and another girl named Satine, while the other picture held the smiling faces of his parents, himself…and a youthful Heather.

            "Thea…"

            She knew immediately what he was looking at, "Yes, that's Heath."

            He looked at her very puzzled; "Heather practically lived at your house, so there are lots of pictures of your parents, you, and her.  In various combinations."

            "Oh." He let himself return to rooting through his mother's old possession.  A key was collecting dust in the very corner of the shoebox-sized item, with two necklaces, one of pearls and one with magic-related charms hanging on it, and a locket tangled impossibly together.  He reached in, withdrew the silver, ornately engraved locket after removing the strand of pink-tinged pearls, and opened the interlocking sides.  The black-and-white faces of himself and, once again, Heather stared back.

            "She said Voldemort killed her parents.  Is that why she's in all these pictures?" The curiosity was killing him, but any reply was expunged, as the professors returned.  The redheaded girl's features relayed the message that she had somehow managed to pull some sort of prank on them.

            Albus watched for a moment, then spoke, "I believe we've played as many indoor games as possible.  Why don't we do something outside now?  It would be a beautiful idea if we all got some fresh air."

            "Umm…well, I mean it's okay if no one wants to, but Heather did say earlier that she would show me some new Quidditch moves." He tried to control the level of hopefulness in his voice – it kept manipulating her, he was sure of it, and he didn't like thinking that she was bending to him because Paddock pitied him.

            "You **volunteered** to show him **Quidditch** moves?" Severus screeched.  It wasn't that he was angry about her desire to bond with the boy, to make him understand that he would be cared for, but of all things…

            "I'd love to, Harry." She smiled, **And it's alright to let your voice convey your desires.  If I didn't want to do something with you, I would politely give you another option.**

            He nodded sweetly, "Could we play it?"

            "Gods, I haven't played Quidditch in **years**.  The last time I slugged some Ravenclaw for purposely knocking me out of the air." She grinned, as though it were some sort of accomplishment.

            "You should see her ride!  It's like she's on a skateboard!" The blue-haired teenager raved, seeing the youths' eyes widen.

            "Thomas, don't use Heath as your voyeur." Came the reprimand from his twin.

            "Thank you, Thea!" The redhead stood, "Would you like to decide teams now or once we get to the field?" She paused, employing magic on the lone figure trying to get out of the room without attracting attention, "And you are so playing, Uncle Severus.  On Harry's side."

            There was an audible groan in response.

            "Decide on the field."

            "Alright." She took his hand in hers and started out of the Hall, then stopped short.  She turned around and reached into the abandoned and forgotten present box, coming out with the velvet robe.  Deftly and close-lipped, she closed it around his shoulders.

-*-*-

            The nineteen-year old watched as her brother laughed at the antics of a rusty set of teams.  Harry, Ron, Hermione, Snape, Dorothea, Fred, and Mrs. Weasley couldn't get their roles working together, while speed seemed the problem for Dumbledore, George, Trelawney, Ginny, Thomas, Dean, and Hooch.

            Both of Hermione's parents had calmly joined her in Gryffindors' designated bleachers, staring after their daughter as she defied gravity to fly fifty feet in the air.

            "Does everyone do this?" Mr. Granger asked, a bit nervous.

            "Pretty much.  Some don't like the heights." She smiled reassuringly at them, "I promise that Hermione isn't going to get hurt.  I won't let her."

            The man relaxed and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, "That was the first clue."

            Minerva picked up on the statement, "What?"

            "The whole skateboard-broom conversation that Thea and I had a little while ago.  I envisioned it.  I knew it was going to happen.  We must hope the others don't happen."

            "Stop worrying, love.  All will work out in the end – like it always does with you."

            Calmly, Heather leaned back, breathing deep, "I'm having the summer house remodeled."

            "I wondered when you would start on that.  Your uncle has as well."

            "Surprise, surprise."

            A bout of undeterminable silence descended then, the game continuing on.

            Harry's team won.

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com 


	6. Chapter Six

A/N: Later in this chapter I describe Heather's rooms at Hogwarts.  I actually was so bored the other day that I started creating the rooms in _The Sims_.  I'm sure I'm going to upload it to the official _Sims_ site, I just don't know when.  I'll inform those who want to see them as soon as I do, however.

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Six

-*-*-

            August first started with a thud for Heather.  Literally.

            "Come on now.  We can't eat until you're up." Cut through her dreams.

            "'amnit, 'Ad…'ivedoorinutes." She slurred her speech, but the elder understood none-the-less.

            He sighed at her.  She _was_ tired.  Spending half the night fighting with one's brother would make anyone exhausted, but he had been unable to keep his emotions in his own mind, forcing her to spend more of her own precious energy to hold a shield against it.  However, Harry wouldn't eat until he knew the redhead was there to protect him from everyone else, "You have to get up, Heather."

            Reluctantly, the girl ran a hand over her face, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.  "I have to get that boy to understand that I get hurt when he can't stop his mind." She mumbled, falling out of the bed with a dull thump, "Ow."

            The elder man just sighed again, and moved to her dresser to begin fishing through the rumpled clothing for something that was actually clean, "Will you ever _fold_ your clothes?"

             "No." She replied, sleepily.  The teenage professor stumbled into her bathroom, never shutting the door and started to brush her teeth.

            "Here." Severus handed her a pair of wrinkled jeans and a long-sleeve blue cotton, button-down shirt.

            "Could you please get me…"

            "I am not going into your underwear drawer." He deadpanned.

            "Please?"

            He glared at her, "When you were seven, I would've.  But you're almost nineteen."

            She stuck out her tongue at him, "Fine." Heather giggled at herself suddenly, and the elder man realized she'd finally looked at the mirror to see the picture she presented.

            Warm rouge hair, which she had placed in a ponytail before she fell asleep, was partially pulled free of its binding and stuck in different directions.  Her emerald eyes were bloodshot from not having woken naturally, and her lips were chapped from the dry air that the castle had provided in her rooms.

            "You should open the windows at night." He advised, then turned, "I'll inform Albus that you're awake."

            "Would you please tell him that I'm sorry that I've been calling him uncle?  I just don't think it'd be easy to explain to the children that I call him my grandfather because technically he is."

            "I think you'd have a harder time explaining that you call me uncle and Minerva your aunt even though we adopted you a decade ago." He sent back, exiting the room.

            The nineteen-year old smiled to herself.  She hadn't been able to have just a few minutes alone with the man for days.  Not that she minded, after all she finally was about to be with her baby brother.

            _'Not a baby anymore.'_ The thought hit her and she choked back a sob.  Gods, she hated when this happened.  For years her adoptive-parents-slash-godparents had tried to get her to understand that her parents had loved her, that her brother was safe…_'Oh, he was safe.  Locked in a bloody cupboard.  At least he was protected in that space…or maybe not.'_

            Grimly, she pulled on her clothes, brushed out her slight-curled hair and replaced it to it's holder, before scrubbing the few tears from her face.  Slowly, then in a dead run, she made for the Great Hall.  She paused a moment outside the doors, caught her breath, and entered the room.

            Everyone was already settled at an oval table, Harry nestled _'thank heavens'_ between Ron and Severus.

            The redhead smiled cheerfully, "Good morning!"

            "Have a good night's sleep?" Hermione inquired as everyone greedily dug in, and Heather shoved her uncle over to sit beside her brother.

            "Mostly."

            The boy had appeared in her chambers that night, so no one but the potions master knew what had happened.

            _I'm sorry._

            **One apology down.**

            He stared at her, his mouth hanging open, _ But I kept you up all night._

            **If I hadn't wanted you there, I would have brought you down to Uncle Severus' rooms.**

            _Oh._ The fifteen year old lifted his gaze from her face, sending it back to his food.  His stomach threatened to revolt just looking at it.

            "Would you like something with less…substance?  Soup and a piece of toast, perhaps." The new teacher inquired, "I'm sure Dobby would have no problem with at least making you some broth."

            Nodding dumbly, he allowed himself to daze out and lean against her shoulder while she ordered his new meal.  He hummed under his breath.

            "Your mum used to sing that to you at night when you didn't want to sleep." Paddock whispered, a smile on her lips as she chopped up her eggs.

            "Really?" That piqued his interest.  He'd had no one to tell him what his parents had been like, or what he had been like as an infant, beyond what little Sirius, Remus, Dumbledore, and Snape had already told him.

            "Uh hum.  You, my friend, were a very talkative baby.  You liked to speak to anyone nearby, and got mad because they couldn't understand what ever it was you were trying to say."

            He asked his soul for permission to smile and was granted a brief one, unsurprised when a small bowl of chicken broth appeared with a large plate of toast.

            She tsked at the sight, "I probably should have told him a small bowl and a small plate."

            "I won't have to eat all of that, will I?"

            The question, asked with the voice of the Harry they once knew, made the redhead's heart leap, "No.  Just as much as you can."

            He nodded and hungrily shoveled a spoonful of the warm liquid in his mouth.  It hit his stomach and stayed, "I don't like this."

            She looked at him oddly, "Do you want something else?"

            "No." He sighed, "I mean that I'm hungry, but that I can't trust my stomach to keep anything in."

            "It'll get easier." Paddock leaned over and kissed his hair, then returned to her food.

            Hermione finished chewing the egg she had shoveled in, "What are we going to do today?"

            "Well, lucky for us, these nutcases…" The new teacher pointed to her co-workers, "…have some business to attend to, so I thought maybe we could go in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade and then fool around in my potions la…"

            Severus spat pumpkin juice across the table, "Potions Lab?!"

            His goddaughter looked at him innocently, "That's what I said."

            "I…I…no.  You can't even make a simple mixture.  Who gave you a lab?"

            Her innocent look turned evil, "The Order."

            "When?"

            "Three months ago."

            Of course, the one day that he had not been able to attend the meeting, she had ended up with a lab… "Where is it?"  
            "Next to yours."  
            "Destroy anything – **ANYTHING** – of mine and you'll be grounded until you're fifty!"

            "As you so astutely reminded me this morning – I'm almost nineteen.  You can't ground anymore, Uncle Severus." She laughed at his red face, and rose to her feet, "Well, on that note, I think I'll go clean up my rooms.  I'll save him the heartattack and we'll just hang out in my rooms today."

            The students nodded their content reply, all eyes on her as she wheeled and exited the Hall, humming as she went.

-*-*-

            A half hour had passed before any of the others appeared at the portrait which hid the entrance to her quarters.  Harry had appeared first and had quickly claimed part of the large couch for himself, followed by Ron who stretched out on the fuzzy wool rug in front of the couch.  Hermione was next with the Weasley twins in tow, a book cradled between them.

            The knowing glint often inflected in Albus' eyes once again occupied Heather's, while she softly told the boy that there was a late birthday gift.

            "Professor Dumbledore wanted to give this to you yesterday, but he got called away before he could and it wasn't completely finished until last night." Fred stumbled over his words a bit, and George pressed the book forward.

            He didn't open it.  He didn't need to to know what was between the leather covers, "Thanks."

            "Well, do you all want to just hang here?  I've got a small library through that door, if anyone wants to read." She stared pointedly at the brunette girl, "Or like I said before, we could take a trip somewhere.  Some place close by preferably if we do.  Tommy and Thea had a family emergency to attend to so they won't be here for the next day or so to help me keep all of you in line."

            The Youngest Mr. Weasley, as he was happy to be called by Paddock, stole a quick glance at his best friend, who had started to nap on the couch, "I think we should just hang here and let him sleep for a little while."

            "Good idea.  We can always go out later." She smiled gently, shifting to pick up the fifteen year old and then carried him into her bedroom.  She deftly tucked him in between the gold-star and red sheets, "Nite, Harrison." She placed a faint kiss on his forehead, and ducked back into the living room.

            The quartet of kids stared at her as she returned.

            "What?" She looked at them incredulously, pulling off her outer robe and draping it over a chair situated by her chess table.

            "Heather, you treat him like he's your brother." One of the twins told her.

            Her hand reached behind her, closing the door, "I told Uncle Albus that you're all too bloody smart to miss all the clues." She muttered, "I think all of you should sit down."

            They complied readily, worried and already getting angry.

            "Alright.  What I'm about to tell you he can't know for a little while more.  Not until I can explain this to him my self." She breathed deep, "Yes, Harry is my brother.  I know for his own reasons that he only recently told you of the voice he hears in his head."

            "And you're it."

            The redhead nodded dumbly, "It's called Adiuvo.  It is a bond only between siblings, and it is begun by the parents.  The day my parents died was the day that they created the strings of it, and it's been thickening from that day on.  But despite this wonderful bond, after they died, I was separated from him and I was not able to do anything more than comfort him." She collapsed on to the couch and put her head in her hands, "I knew something was going on in that house, but I could never get anyone to go there.  _The Wards are protecting him_." She mimicked the Headmaster, "_If he were getting hurt, we'd know._  Bullshit."

            The anger immediately melted from the other's eyes, even Ron's, which surprised Heather mightily.  George lisped out the words, "You tried to get him away?"

            "Many times.  I had screaming matches with my family so often, they actually knew when one was coming."

            "When are you going to tell him?" Ron refused to meet her eyes.  He wasn't angry with her, but that didn't stop him from losing just a bit of respect for the girl.

            "I don't know.  If it weren't for my responsibility, I'd tell him right now.  But I know my family wishes I wait until he is recovered." She noticed a blue twinkle outside her window, "I thought they weren't going to be back for days."

            She hurriedly wandered to the window, shoving a sheer curtain to the side.

            Thomas and Dorothea were stumbling across the grounds, the blue-haired man trying to support his sister despite his obviously wounded leg demanding limp.

            "Fred, go to the Headmaster's office.  The password is Peanut Butter Crunch.  There will be a small Snowy owl with Fawkes.  Send a letter to Madam Pomfrey with it." The boy ran off, sensing the urgency, as the girl turned to the second twin and the youngest boy, "Stay here.  Watch Harry, alright?"

            She didn't wait for an affirmative, instead grabbing the other girl's hand and running for the hospital wing.

            Halfway there, the two girls intercepted the twins.  Both Tommy and Thea appeared to be bleeding from virtually every part of their bodies.

            "What happened?" Heather demanded.

            "Portkey was tampered with." Tommy groaned, continuing on for the wing, leaning his sister onto their friend's lean shoulder.

            "That's not possible.  I made the key."

            "But someone else delivered it." The Swedish girl sighed, struggling to keep her head up.

            The wheels of the nearly-nineteen year old's mind began turning, trying to figure out who the traitor in the ranks was.

            Eventually the now-quartet made it to their destination, where each twin gladly fell into beds.

            "What happened there?" Paddock implored once again, the told Hermione to bring her a potion from the medi-witch's stores, "Well?"  
            "We got there in time to see Voldemort leaving our house.  He sent the message." The man replied, knowing his sister was too concentrated on trying to breathe, "Heath, he knows that Harry is with you."

            She appeared to ignore the last sentence, casting a quick glance at her other best friend, "How'd you get hurt?"

            "He saw us and sent a couple of Death Eaters in our direction.  We were just able to apparate into Firenze's den."

            Poppy ran into the room at that moment, Fred taking up the rear, "Keeping taking care of him." Was her posthaste order, turning to Thea and setting up several sustaining spells around the girl.

            Heather didn't speak again, though Tommy could read her eyes.  He knew she had come to certain final decision.

            Finally finished with all the care that she could provide, she kissed his forehead, letting her lips linger for several seconds, then moved as if to leave.  Kayesfort grabbed her wrist, "Wait until tonight.  Severus will be here."

            She averted her eyes, "I can't keep it a secret from him anymore." The green orbs sought out his, "He's being brave because he thinks that he has to prove himself worthy of being loved.  Last night, after I let him finish yelling at me, he admitted that it was that it was the first time in his life that he felt normal." The intense gaze she took on let him know that fighting with her was going to end up proving futile, "Who am I to deny him a family?  A normal life?  Even I got a chance to just be a kid.  My fate is likely to be an early grave, as is his, yet when given the choice between work and play, no one complained if I decided to be a child.

            "Doesn't he deserve the right to be a kid?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

            Thomas rubbed the skin that had been gripped too tightly, "I should know by now that you're usually right when it comes to him."

            Quietly she slipped away, smiling sadly.

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com 


	7. Chapter Seven

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Seven

-*-*-

            George and Ron had been sent off to the wing to help Poppy, leaving the redhead to keep a watchful eye on the scarred boy.

            "Where'd you go?" The fifteen-year old asked, staring sleepily at her from his place in between the red-n-gold linens.

            "Tommy and Thea were ambushed and needed help, but they're okay now.  I just needed to get them to the hospital wing and keep them stable until Poppy could get there." Slowly, Heather settled onto the bed.

            Harry searched for words, hoping that silence would not claim the room, "I like your sheets."

            "I'll get you some for your bed."

            He grinned weakly, "The guys would tease me."

            "Well, there are ones that have the gold snitch in lieu of stars."

            _Not going to give up, are you?_

            **Nope.  Remember, I _was_ raised by Minerva.**

            "Why is it so easy to switch between speaking and…_speaking_?" The raven-haired child before her implored, suddenly curious, as he sat up on the comfortable mattress.

            "I'm not completely sure, but it's probably just because we're in such close proximity to each other." Her eyes laughed, "I think it's nice to be able to switch."

            "It is." He mumbled, "Heather, I heard Ron and George talking and they were saying some odd things."

            "Like?" She was sure she already knew he was about to ask the question that would ease her soul and burden his.

            "They said that you're my sister."

            She gazed at him, momentarily gauging his reaction as the inquiry was made.  His breathing was even and normal, but his skin was red from embarrassment.

            "What would you think if I were?"

            A moment's contemplation, then, "I don't know.  Happy…"

            "Hurt." She spoke for him, knowing the word was floating around his head.  She briefly became aware of footsteps above her head and knew Snape was in the Order's private lab, waiting in case Potter did something drastic.

            Harrison his eyes, "Sort of."

            "It's alright.  I'm amazed you haven't made a move to hit me." She grazed a hand toward him, letting it rest lightly on his ankle.

            "I'm not mad.  I don't know why, though, because I should, shouldn't I?" He spoke to his hands more than her.

            "Maybe." Heather was at a loss for words to answer that question, but continued before the fifteen-year old could speak again, "Like I told your friends, Harry, I tried for many years to get you away.  However, since I was too young and couldn't reveal our connection to anyone in the ministry, save Arthur Weasley, you were going to have to stay at **their** house.  But now that I have you, I will see to it that you never have to see the Dursleys ever again."

            "I know."  A sense of belonging had washed over him when he fully realized that he indeed had a sister, "I guess this explains why you knew my mother so well.  I always knew there was someone out there who loved me."

            "I have waited such a long time to be able to say that you're my brother." Her eyes were misting, and she reached forward to cradle him, "Such a long, long time."

-*-*-

            The siblings had fallen asleep after a few hours of talking, blissfully unaware of the faculty's re-arrival at the school and the ill news they brought with them.  Dreams brought Harry a broad array of ideas of the house the almost-nineteen-year old described to him and images of his parents.  It was a sudden sensation of belonging he'd only had during the months of school, and he was glad to feel it in his bones.  Now he had a real home.

            Heather's dreams, on the other hand, were wrought with images of death, of pain, of blood.  The vision was bad, but with her brother close by, it eased to discomfort and she was alert enough to deal with them adequately.  Screams were predominate.  Something was going to happen, her soul cried and her eyes burned beneath her eyelids.  Something was going to happen to the castle and the student body.  She couldn't stop the moan that pulled them both into consciousness.

            "Sis?" The word rolled off the boy's tongue like water, as if it were completely natural to wake up cuddled to her.

            "It's nothing." She rubbed her eyes.

            "No, it's not.  What is it?"

            The hand once again drifted to his hair, carding through the somewhat tamed locks, "Visions of a future I'm trying to stop."

            "I don't understand." He stared at her, green eyes seeking out green eyes.

            "I have a gift.  Well, right now it's a curse to any sleep cycle I may try to have…I see the future, Harry.  I knew when I was a child that Mum and Dad were going to die.  I tried to stop it, tried to get them to stick with Sirius as our secret keeper, but things just didn't work out the way I wanted them to." She brushed a fallen lock from his ear, "And now as Voldemort gets stronger, I see things that could happen if we continue on the same path."

            He nodded, "I guess this is why you are such a firm believer in the 'all things in their own time' policy?"

            "Mostly." She smirked.

            "What time is it?"

            A brief look at the end table across the room, and, "Noon.  We should go make an appearance in the Hall.  The family might freak if we don't show up."

            "The family?"

            She silently cursed herself.  The redhead kept forgetting that he knew almost nothing about the life she had created for herself, and for him when the time came, "Severus adopted me when I was younger.  He's my godfather, but there were only so many decisions he could make for me without being a legal guardian.  Same for Aunt Minerva."

            "Wait…Professor McGonagall is your…your…"

            "**Adoptive** mother." She slid from the bed, "No one will ever take the place of Mum and Dad in my heart.  However, I was only four when they died.  I couldn't make a good decision for myself until I was much older."

            He nodded, "Do you think…that they…"

            "Will adopt you too?  No doubt in my mind.  Of course, Mom will right away, but Papa will take a little longer.  He won't do anything until he's sure that you know him and he knows you."

            "It's rather frightening to hear you call them those names."

            "And I was frightened in the beginning when the words just sorta slipped out of my mouth without me realizing it, but after awhile, Harry, it's normal.  They have taken care of me; given me a home whether it was in Latvia or the States.  They were already my Godmom and my Goddad, I just fixed up the names." She allowed herself to smirk once again, "Although, I think I scared them witless the first time I did it to them."

            "They won't be mad if I don't?"

            "No." The girl disappeared into her bathroom, "They know you see Mum and Dad as your Mum and Dad.  They don't expect you to call them anything other than Minerva and Severus." She reappeared with a toothbrush in her mouth.

            He merely sat there, "So I guess I'll have to call you Miss Paddock in class."

            Barely a sigh more, a choke, then, "I can't let everyone know I'm alive.  In the eyes of the wizarding world, Heather Potter died that night.  I'm a secret, Harry."

            "Why?"

            "You know, after all these years, you'd think I'd remember that that's your favorite word." A chipper grin graced her previously tired features, "Because I must remain an enigma to the community.  As far as they know, the Order of the Phoenix is run by Albus.  Imagine their panic if they found out that an eighteen-year old who was believed to have been dead is the true leader."

            "But you look like mom."

            "Which is why those who knew our family know I'm alive.  And the similarities will be marked off as coincidental by the parents."

            There were no more questions from Harry, who finally managed to roll from the bed to the floor and walked into the living room.  A quick imploring inquiry and he was headed back to the dorm for clean clothes and a shower, while the girl did the same in her chambers.  As she pulled her hair from the ponytail, she made a mental note to buy some Gryffindor-colored sheets before the start of the term.

-*-*-

            "Ah, there they are." Severus patted the chair beside him.  The round table from breakfast had returned.

            Heather sat down beside the man, Harry next to her and a rather talkative Tommy.  When the food appeared, she leaned slightly to the side, "What did you say to her to get out of the ward this quickly?"

            The other people in the room smiled as if saying 'we-know-something-you-don't-know'.

            "What?" Harry was nervous.

            "You two have been asleep since mid-morning **yesterday**." Hermione told her best friend gently, but couldn't stop the teasing tone she picked up by the last word.

            The siblings launched into their best impressions of fish, "No." They gasped in unison.

            "We let you sleep.  Both of you could use the rest." The hint that the potion master knew her visions were becoming frequent wasn't missed by the girl, "And you may not be getting much in the next few days."  He stared pointedly at the teenage teacher.

            Her eyes betrayed her façade of calmness, "Particular reason?"

            "Something we will discuss tonight." He lisped, then dove into his food wholeheartedly.

            "I'm bringing them to the meeting." She replied.

            The adults nodded, the children wondered what was going on but kept their mouths shut or continued to munch the sandwiches that the house-elves had prepared.

            Another bout of sleepiness laid down on Harry and he placed his head on her shoulder, _What is wrong with me?_

            With the careful grace of a mother, the older's hand came to rest on his forehead, "I knew this would happen." Her hand ached with the heat of his skin, and a quick inspection of his ears told her all she needed to know, "Time to go back to the dungeons."

            "No!" He rejected the idea.  He didn't like dank and dark places.

            "Yes." The tone in her voice told him that there was no room for argument, but he was damned if he wasn't going to at least try to fight.

            "Please?"

            She began the act of caressing his face yet again, "There is none of this potion in the stores.  It has to be specially made and administered immediately after it's brewed.  It's the only option we have right now or your fever will continue to rise radically every hour."

            "Why?"

            "That word…" She muttered, "You know why."

            A sheepish red came to his face.  He'd been sick since he'd arrived, true, but it had mostly gone.  Or so he had thought.

            "It's a sickness that would've killed you in days, if you were a muggle.  Must've picked it up from someone else on the street." She explained, picking him up from the chair.  Her tired and just-becoming-alert muscles weren't able to support him, but the black-haired teacher came to the rescue and pulled the boy, struggling, into his arms.  Readjusting the teenager in his arms, he soon discovered that Harry had become unconscious at some point.

            Just when things were looking up…

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com 


	8. Chapter Eight

A/N: Thanks all for your reviews.  It's great inspiration!  I also just wanted to let everyone know that starting this chapter (and for the sake of my sanity), Heather's going to refer to McGonagall and Snape as her mother and father much more.  When she speaks of Lily and James, she'll call them Mum and Dad.

Oh, and this chapter is short because I really wanna put something up and I'm too lazy to write out the whole sordid scene of what happens with the potion and with Harry & Heather.  Next chapter will be up soon.  (I hope.)

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Eight

-*-*-

            Severus gently laid the young boy down on the blue-velvet couch situated in the middle of the living room of his dungeons, while Heather made for the bathroom.  She grabbed the nearest object resembling a bowl, filled it with lukewarm water, and returned to the room.

            She was unsurprised to see that her father had disappeared into his lab, Minerva taking up the space beside her brother.  Quietly the two women worked, knowing that at any moment the low-grade fever could explode and cause his body to overheat.

            A string of curses fluttered to the duo, followed by, "Get him in a bath.  Keep him as cool as possible." The man was ripping on his outer robes, "I have to go to Diagon.  I'll be back in a few minutes." Powder was thrown into the fireplace and the destination shouted.

            "I'll start the water." The elder shifted and half-ran into the bathroom.

            But a quiet poke at the Adiuvo caused the nearly-nineteen year old to moan – the fever had risen.  Her lungs felt like they were being pressed together and hopelessly knotted, "Hurry." She managed to strangle out, hearing the transfiguration professor speed up the amount of water entering the huge square tub.

            The room filled with the sound of the water, and all the boy could hear was the rush of blood in his ears, _So tired…_

            **Don't go to sleep yet, Love.  Once you drink the potion, then you can sleep as long as you desire.** She calmly instructed.

            Both children were only half-aware when McGonagall returned to the room, and delicately took Harry into her arms.  As she slid him fully clothed into the bath water, her mind registered that a levitating charm would probably been a better idea.

            "No.  He needs the touch more than he needs the cold air." The redhead informed, entering the bathroom.

            "There should be some towels around here somewhere.  Hold his head." The head of Gryffindor shuffled around the room.

            With all the grace of a newborn giraffe, Heather slid into the water, before pulling the scarred boy into her lap.

            _Cold._

            **I know.** She began to brush her fingers through his damp locks.

            McGonagall returned to the tub side, several black and silver towels in her hands, as well as a dry set of clothes.  She knelt down, "Harry, love, you have to stay awake for just a bit longer."

            The sound of a door being slammed was heard in the background, allowing the two more-lucid people to realize that Severus had returned.

            Heather looked down at the fifteen-year old.  His eyes were occasionally slipping close then popping open, so she gently began to speak, "Harry, would you like to hear about Mum and Dad's wedding?"

            _Wedding?  You were there?_

            "I was.  Remember I was born while they were still in school.  They weren't sure they were going to stay together so they didn't get married until Mum found out she was two months pregnant with you."

            _Oh._

            "No, you know what?  I'm going to tell you about when you were a baby." She sniffed and sighed, "You were a very sweet baby.  Beyond the fact that you got mad at us sometimes, but Mum could always calm you and make you laugh.  You loved when she rocked you, sang to you."

            _Pretty music._

            "It was pretty music." She began to rock him, desperate to keep him awake.  Her skin was relaying the message to her brain that he was getting warmer.  Calmly, she reached one hand down and worked at the buttons, stopping when he struggled to get away from her.

            _No.  Nononono…_

            "It's me, Harry." He ignored her words, so she pressed into his mind, **It's me.  I promise that it's just me, little brother.  You're so warm.  I only want to get your shirt off so the sweat gets away from your skin.**

            Slowly, the young man released his tensed muscles and allowed his sister to take the garment from his body.  Another reassurance, and his pants followed, leaving him clothed solely in his boxers.

            "MINERVA!" The shout came from clear across the quarters, deep inside the Potion Master's lab.

            She did not need to be called twice.  The teenage redhead couldn't say a word; the elder woman was gone well before either child could comprehend that they were alone in the room.

            _Sorry._

            **That's two.  You did not cause this, Love.  I know of no one who can make themselves ill on command.**

            _But I didn't tell you._

            **Yes.  Well, I am the judge of the apologies, am I not?  And I say that you have done nothing wrong.**

            He contentedly laid his head on her shoulder, "I'm hot."

            "I know." She cupped some water into her hand, raising it to his sweat-slicked and overheated skin, "Once Papa finishes the potion, you'll feel much better." The water slipped through her fingers, down his neck, back, and returned to the bath.

            "Feels good."

            She smiled grimly and kissed his hair, placing her hand back into the water.  The cycle continued – water in hand, water running over him, water being cooled by the dungeons so he would cool off – multiple times, until a teary-eyed Transfigurations Professor re-entered the room.

            "Mom?" Heather was scared.  It was blunt and it was the truth.  The elder woman rarely looked the way she did at that moment.  Some thing was very wrong.

            "Heather, help me get him dressed." The voice was barely a whisper.

            "Not until you tell me why you look so upset." Her eyes narrowed, _'I'll force the truth out of her if I have to.'_

            Swiftly, another joined the trio, pulling the sopping boy from the clear liquid.  Snape wrapped a towel around him, took the offered clothes McGonagall help up, and disappeared back into the living room.

            The teen didn't even step out from the tub, "If it is going to affect him badly, we'll find another way."

            "You know there isn't another way."

            "Mom, what is it?" Her temper was fading fast.

            The professor stared at her adopted daughter for a moment, taking in the sight of the eighteen-year old, damp from head-to-toe and getting angry.  "Heather, the Adiuvo…it might…" Words were escaping the elder, "This potion is his only hope, and when he takes it, the effects might disintegrate the bond."

-*-*-

            Heather rushed into the workroom; water dripping into the crevices between the stones, which made up the floor.  She passed unfilled vials and simmering cauldrons, shelves and shelves of ingredients.  The very back of the almost-hallway like laboratory were the tomes of books from Severus' private collection.

            The Adiuvo was an ancient bond from unsettled times when the loss of one child could often have been prevented.  Its origins were a bit clouded, but every piece of knowledge on it had been collected and charmed, so it could not be lost to the ages.

            "Bonds of the Youth…Telepathy in Witches and Wizards…Honestus…Hostis…" her fingers tripped over the volumes, settling on one at the very end of the last shelf, "Adiuvo: Blood and Love."

            The speed at which she flipped through the pages was practically manic.  Then, on the last page, lay her greatest fear.

            **The potion, Draught of Coactus, can adversely affect Adiuvo.  Often the side effects are minimal damage that corrects over time.  However, some instances have occurred where the bond has been too destroyed to restore itself.  It will fester almost like wound, until the elder, and thus the better-trained sibling, is unable to maintain a difference in the two minds.  When the minds meld into one, neither will be able to decipher one from the other.**

**            With their minds as one, but their bodies separate, they will slowly lose their sanity.  Inside of three months, one will die by their own hand.  The other, now being left alone with mismatched emotions and memories, will go insane.  Their body will begin shutting down shortly afterward and die.**

            The girl dropped the book to the floor, dazed, then followed it in tears.

            _'This isn't happening.  Why is this bloody happening?!'_ Her mind screeched, her eyes trained on her hands.  Her nails were digging helplessly into her flesh.  Little pools of blood were forming and old feelings were surfacing.

            "Heather!"

            The redhead's gaze shifted, worried dark pools of vision stared back, "I can't stop.  Help me."

            He lifted her hands to pry her fists open.  This was not the first time he had needed to do so, and it wrenched the raven-haired man's heart, "We've sent emergency owls out to the specialists from the Order, to St. Mungos, and to several others." Her fingers relaxed, "Heather, I will not let anything happen to you or to Harry.  I promise you that."

            "No.  He will die if he doesn't get that…"

            "He could die even if he does get the potion."

            _Heather?_ Harry's voice was weak.

            "What if I'm there?  There has to be literature on the other cases that you or Mom have read.  Maybe the ones who experienced the minor damage were with their brother or sister when they got the Draught."

            "I think it was mentioned once or twice, but it's still risky."

            She broke out completely from her daze, and grasped his face in her hands, "Papa, I don't want to lose him too.  If we lose our minds, then at least we'll lose them together.  I've lived far too long with his dry jokes, his laughter, in my head to give it up now."

            "You're sure?" He searched her emerald eyes for anything telling him she was scared or doubtful.  There was none.

            "I can't live without him." She whispered, "And I cannot believe that he can live without me talking to him when he needs me most."

            Stiffly, the man rose and pulled her up with him, "Sips are reversible.  And that is what I will give him.  The first sign that either you or he are in distress I'll give him the antidote."

            "Don't let him die."

            "I won't."

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com


	9. Chapter Nine

A/N: Did anyone know that there are English-American dictionaries online?  I didn't until a few days ago.  Just so all know, since I've found such items on the 'net, I'll be trying to work it into the story.  I may not have ever visited the country but at least I might be able to sound a little more authentic.

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Nine

-*-*-

            Harry was not yet accustomed to having someone curled up beside him.  Especially when there was a bed involved.  But he had learned to just be still.

            **It's me, Love.**

            Slowly, the teenage boy relaxed somewhat.  It had started to hurt to breathe, but he felt less warm, so he was willing to just deal if it would garner him some sleep.

            "No sleep yet." The girl's voice was sniffled in his ear, "Harry, I need you to listen to me for a moment, okay?"

            He hoped the dull words that tumbled from his mouth were something to the affirmative.

            "There have been…instances where the Adiuvo – the bond we share – has been affected.  And it cannot be corrected.  Bad things start to happen when that occurs."

            "Um hum."

            "I just want you to know that no matter what is to come, I'll always be here."

            I sounded like she had begun to cry and he rolled slightly onto his side, reaching out for her as best he could despite his weakened state.

            The bed dipped, a goblet lifted to the younger's mouth.

            "Carefully…that's it…" A voice coaxed, a hand pulling the cup with the blessed potion away, "I'll give you more.  I promise."

            "Feel better."

            "I know.  Harry, I want you to pay all your attention to the Voice."

            **Oh, I love it when people call me that!  So mysterious.**

            He smiled at her, _Silly._

            **Love that word too.  'Specially when it's coming from you because I know you're feeling better. **

            The liquid returned and he drank his sip, before it was taken.

            That was when he felt it.  Desperately, he grasped for the groundwork that was the Adiuvo.  The fifteen-year old could tell his sister was doing the same on her side, _Heather?_

            **It's alright.  It's stabilized now.  Drink some more.**

            In reality, Heather hadn't yet figured out how to fix the fraying bond, but she was not going to tell him that.  And being that she was the older sibling, she could actually feel her mind being ripped apart.  It hurt like hell, but he could still hear her – that _had_ to be a good sign.

            He drank more, growing more aware that Severus was the one who was holding the goblet, "Papa."

            The word startled the elder man, "Harry." And he tipped a little more into the youth's mouth.

            Clarity punctured into the fog clouding his mind.

            The redhead screamed.

-*-*-

            Pain was all the nearly-nineteen year old could sense about her.  From her scalp to her toes, everything radiated with a feel of being stabbed, being beaten.

            When she opened her distressed eyelids, she could see Snape hovering above her.

            "It's alright, Heath.  It's alright." However, the despair she could read in his eyes told her all she truly needed to know.

            "Harry?" It was more of a choked croak than an actual word.

            "Mom has him." He hesitated, "Has the Adiuvo…"

            Calmly as her shaking heart would allow, Heather reached toward the bond.  To her brother, it was an enigma – he knew it was there, knew where it was, but it was invisible.  To her, it was a warmth-giving, lush, misty forest with a green, red, gold, and silver ribbon flowing like water through the middle.

            The ribbon was frayed.  The forest dull and washed in a white, muddled glow.

            It still existed.

            "Love?" The Potions Master grazed a hand over her forehead.

            She smiled weakly, and sighed.  The pain was lessening, as though someone was dipping into her pain and taking some away.  "I don't think…I'll be able to handle the…meeting tonight." Her chest hurt, making breathing hard, which caused her to break the sentence into pieces.

            "Don't worry about that now."

            His voice was distant almost.  He was not sitting on the bed anymore.  Instead, he was in his private loo, tearing through multiple potions.

            Silence filled the room for a moment, then he returned and pulled her up into a sitting position, "Ow."

            "Sorry, love."

            "Have I mentioned…lately how much I…loathe potions?" She lamented, before chugging the liquid down.

            He lifted an eyebrow, causing her to grin at the presentation he made.  The concerned look had not dulled with a glare-like expression mixed in, "What?"

            "Nof…hing." Exhaustion was slurring her speech.

            "Sleep." It was a command, not a suggestion.

            She swallowed, trying to get her throat to work with her, "My brother?"

            "I told you already, love.  Mom has her.  We'll make sure his friends find their way down here and that he eats something."

            She gave him her best 'Mom-had-better-not-pressure-him' look.

            "I know.  I'll hold her back as best I can."

            As she slipped into slumber, she gently scolded Harry, **Stop doing that.**

-*-*-

            Meanwhile, Harry was lying on the blue sofa yet again, with Minerva shoving a piece of cookie at him.

            "Would you please stop trying to force-feed him?!" Snape was tired and not at all in the mood to deal with her mothering instincts, "He can't eat anything for a few hours, unless you want to have him…what's Heather's wording…ah – paying homage to the porcelain god."

            The boy managed to giggle at that.

            "Think that's funny, do you?"

            He nodded in reply.  What had his sister done to this man to turn him into…this?

            The Potion's Master simply smiled at him.  He shifted slightly, pulled off his robe and then moved to sit at the youth's feet, "How is your head feeling?"

            "Alright, I guess.  Heather yelled at me so it hurts a little."

            "She yelled at you?"

            He blushed, "I figured that since I was feeling better, I could…well…take some of her pain away."

            Severus blinked.  There had been a theory many years before that Adiuvo could help siblings level off pain and even help with healing, but the closest of children had never managed it.  _'Most other children aren't Heather and Harrison.  Everyone knew they were special from the start of their lives.  Wouldn't it make sense if they could **do** the most extraordinarily impossible things?'_

            McGonagall blinked at her fellow professor, before turning to Harry, "You don't have to do that.  We won't allow anything to happen to you or her."

            "Promise?"

            She smoothed back his unruly space-black hair, "Promise." A warm smile graced her lips and he grinned in return.

            "She's the best sister."

            "You've only been in her presence a few days, love." Severus moaned, "So don't start telling her any thing like that.  It'll inflate her ego."

            He laughed at that, as an uneasy silence settled over the room and its inhabitants.  The clock chimed five minutes later, "Dinner?"

            "Midnight you may eat again, but I fear the mere scent of food will make you ill.  Minerva, you can go the Hall if you are hungry and I can stay here."

            She shook her head – she didn't need to have and Adiuvo or any other bond to know he was thinking of something dark, "Harrison."

            His eyes shifted to her, "Yes?"

            "Is something the matter?"

            "No."

            He was lying.  So many years of teaching hormonal teenagers trains one to know lies.

            The youth sighed, "Can I…umm…talk to…to Se…Severus?"  The word 'alone' didn't need to be said.

            The Transfigurations Professor rose from her seat on the coffee table before the couch, sweeping from the room in a fluid movement after placing a soft kiss to his forehead.

            Snape took her place in front of the boy, settling into an antique and plush rocking chair.

            The question in the younger's eyes was almost regretful.  Then it voiced itself, "Can I si…nevermind." Shame colored his cheeks.

            "Come here." He patted his knee and held open his arms, which Harry happily filled, "You don't have to ask.  I did this for Heather.  I'll do the same for you." He whispered into the tanned ear, rubbing his back and kissed the head resting beneath his chin.  The face of the aforementioned boy was too busy being buried in his _'what **do** I call him?  Father?  Papa?  Severus?  My life is too fucking confusing!'_ robe, and was content to just cower closer to the elder.

            And it appeared that the actions were telling what he didn't want to tell, "Don't push the memories away, Love.  It won't do you any good and it will just hurt more in the end."

            The chair began to shift rhythmically – back and forth, back and forth.  It was more soothing than the scarred boy had thought it would be, "Feels better now."

            "I'm sure it does.  But in a few hours, a few days…"

            "I don't want to remember." It was lisped dully, "I don't ever want to think of it again."

            "You can't fight it."

            He laughed a laugh full of mirth, "If I can fight Voldemort, I can fight my memories."

            _'This boy is so incorrigible.'_ Severus thought, until he felt wet heat against his chest, "Shhh.  Alright, alright."

            The tears didn't have a chance to slid down his cheeks, instead they were absorbed into his robes, a large splotch forming, "It hurt so much."

            "I know." The elder carded his fingers through the youth's black strands.

            Creaking as it moved, the rocking chair plotted against any silence that could've fallen in the room.

-*-*-

            When Minerva returned from a small dinner in the Great Hall, Hermione and Ron, who were obviously tired, were following her.

            "Severus?"

            "Shh." He held a finger to his lips as he entered the sitting room, "They're both asleep."

            She nodded in reply, then turned to the two children, "Why don't you both go back to the tower for a little while?"

            "Can't we stay here?" Ron's voice quivered ever so slightly and his eyes pleaded.

            Snape shook his head; "I don't have anything for either of you to do."

            The students tossed a look between each other, sighed, before stepping backwards to the doorway.  A chuckle stopped them.

            "I said I didn't have anything for you to do.  I never said I couldn't come up with some thing."

            Hermione smiled, "Really?"

            "Of course.  Follow me." He gave them a 'come-hither' gesture with one finger, then lead them through a doorway to the classroom.

            The other professor took advantage of her sudden-aloneness, stepping quickly into the man's bedroom where Heather was sleeping, albeit restlessly, with Harry cuddled up close to her for the inexplicable comfort only a sibling could provide.

            "I'm going to call a meeting tonight." The whisper from the teenage girl's lips surprised the elder.

            "How long have you been awake?"

            "A half-hour or so.  Papa brought Harry into the room and hung around for a while.  I would've talked to him, but I have very little desire to have potions shoved down my throat." She brought up one hand to brush through the red hair.

            "Why do you want a meeting tonight?" The gray-haired woman sat down beside her daughter.

            She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up a little better, "Would you accept because we haven't had one in two months?"

            "There's more."

            "Yes." She unconsciously tightened her hold on her brother, "I need to make sure no one decides to go out after the people who hurt Harry."

            McGonagall nodded.  Many of the members of the Order loved him as they loved his sister simply because…well…because he was Harry.  They knew of his childhood, as they undoubtedly knew of what had happened, and unless their leader ordered them, they would most probably go out to punish those responsible.

            "I'm hungry."

            "What would you like?"

            "Anything." The redhead rubbed her eyes and started to extricate herself from the bed and the youth who was clutching her arm.

            Her mother stood up and helped Heather to get from the bed to the wingback chair near the fireplace, which was opposite the bed.  After the younger was content with a blanket wrapped around her legs and a book of Muggle fairytales, the professor slipped from the room to order a light supper, careful to add something small for Harry as well.

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com 


	10. Chapter Ten

A/N: I forgot last chapter to say that I uploaded Heather's quarters.  It's on lot 64 (I think) with a bunch of downloaded objects and custom walls.  If you're going to download it, e-mail me first so I can give you the shopping list.  It's called **The Perch of the Phoenix** and my ID at www.thesims.com is Cassie_Jamie.

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Ten

-*-*-

            "No."

            "Yes."

            "No."

            "Harrison James Potter, you will eat what has been given to you.  _Right_.  _Now_." Heather was weak, but as everyone was learning, she just as bloody stubborn as she'd ever been.

            Defiantly the boy pushed his food away, "I'm not hungry."

            The group had ended up, once again, in the sitting room.  Minerva had transfigured the coffee table into an actual table, positioned so the couch and various chairs were comfortably pushed to it.  The twins, Hermione, Ron, and their transfigurations professor had already eaten, allowing them the time to spend on other activities, such as the summer homework from Charms.  When the food had arrived, Heather ate furiously while her brother continued to sleep.

            When the aforementioned fifteen-year old woke, the redhead had immediately called for her father, who helped the youth into the bathroom for a bath.  Not a minute after he dressed, the new teacher appeared and dragged him to the couch, then stuck a plate of grits and sausage under his nose.  Which he was opposing for some unknown reason.

            "Yes, you are." She ticked off something on the papers she was reading.

            "No, I'm not."

            "Stop fighting with me!"

            Severus stood from his place at his ornate wooden desk, and in two strides was beside the boy.  The plate moved closer, the man sat, and Harry realized that the spoon was being laden with the buttery breakfast food.

            "No." The black-haired boy shoved the potion's master's hand away, sending the contents of the utensil flying.

            "I think it would be best if you four left." Heather lisped, "We have to be at the meeting in two hours anyway.  A cat nap and a change of clothes might be in order."

            Fred and George understood the hint and took their brother's hand, fully aware that Hermione was following them back to the tower.

            "Harry, you have to eat.  I will not have you getting sick again." The head of Slytherin skillfully maneuvered the re-filled spoon to Potter's lips, "Open your mouth."

            Nothing.

            "_Now_." His tone left no room for argument, "I'm sorry, love.  I don't want to be acting like Minerva, but you really are much too thin."

            Guiltily, more of the grits and sausage were shoveled into his mouth until the boy could truly eat no more, then turned to the black-clad man.  The fifteen-year old curled up to his side.

            "I don't think he should go to the meeting." Minerva murmured, watching him desperately search for comfort.

            "I don't think so either, but if he doesn't then I'll have forty overprotective members searching the castle for him and I really don't want to have to deal with them." She sighed, "I think I'll just bring him in for a moment so they can see that he's…well, he's not harmed too badly.  Then I'll let Grandpa take over."

            The elder woman nodded, "Alright.  Is that alright with you, Harry?"

            The boy in question nodded, keeping his eyes closed and ensconcing himself into the flowing velvet blue robe.  _We'll only be there a few minutes, right?_

            "Yes.  Just so I can restrain the members of the Order." She smiled, before moving to sit at his feet and rubbing his toes lovingly.

            Snape watched the girl carefully, eyeing her as a warning when he felt the boy tense under her touch, "Harrison."

            He pulled his les closer, as if hiding something.

            "Take the charm off." The softness of the tone obscured the fact that it was an actual command.

            The fifteen-year old's mind knew not to fight.  Severus wasn't going to hurt him – he was trying to help, and since the previous efforts of letting the boy have some latitude weren't working, he'd moved on to more fatherly methods.

            Harry removed the charm, revealing the deep purple bruise around his ankle.

            "When did you fall?" The potion's master implored, "_Accio Jenga_."  A small violet and hunter green marbled vial flew into his outstretched hand.

            "I didn't."

            "First of all, you _had_ to have fallen to twist your ankle that badly.  Second, it's perfectly fine that you fell.  Everyone does." The vial was uncorked.

            "What is…"

            "This is something you are going to drink." He lifted it and pressed it into the younger's hand.

            Harry started at it for a moment, filtering through his mental file of potions.  Jenga…his father had called…

            The vial slipped to the floor, where it shattered into several large pieces.

            "Harrison!" Minerva was startled by the sound of the glass as it made contact with the smooth stone, "Harry?"

            **It's alright. ** His sister's voice drew him away and to her, **Harry, Love, I told you before – it's perfectly fine to call Severus your father.  No one can replace Daddy…no one.**

            He moved his hand back to his stomach and looked up at Severus, "Papa."

            "Harry."

            Gazing away, the fifteen-year old let the wheels in his mind turn, eyes closed, until he relaxed and laid back into the elder's arms.

            "Not Daddy."

            "No." Snape comforted.

            Heather leaned over and kissed his forehead, "Now, I'm going to get cleaned up for the meeting.  When I get back I want you to have taken the potion."

            He nodded in response, watching her drag her feet as she left, "She's scared."

            "Yes, she is." McGonagall answered.  She knew all too well that the walk translated into her emotions, and the nearly-nineteen year old was terrified.

            "Why?"

            "She's scared for you." The raven-haired man rubbed his shoulder gently, calling another violet-green vial from his workroom.

-*-*-

            Heather carefully skirted around her room, picking up the strewn about clothing and thinking to herself about all things family.  She sighed as her thoughts turned to Harrison.

            _'He's a child, Heath.  He doesn't understand how to deal, not after living with the Dursleys.  And he's trying so hard to cope.  It's not easy for him to hear you call Severus your father when he was told that you're his sister.  He's expecting you to call James Daddy.'_

            Sighing yet again, she slipped into her bathroom and stared into the mirror.  The red hair, the green eyes…she carried Lily's features with a mix of her parents' personalities.  Harry had their father's dark hair and the shape of their faces matched so well it was uncanny, but he reacted with the traits of their mother.

            _"Fuck that!  We're not leaving you!"_

            _"If you don't leave, I'll kill you myself!"_

            …

            _"Heather, I'm scared."_

            _"I know, Love.  I am too, but for now you must be strong.  That bravery you used so well before, call on it."_

            "HEATHER LILY POTTER!"

            The girl blinked and heaved in a large breath of cool air, then let her eyes lock onto the worried blue ones, "Hiya, Grandpa." She could feel the headache coming on, "I wish you wouldn't do that."

            "Do what?" It took the white-haired Headmaster a moment, "Oh.  Heather, I am sorry."

            "I know." She smiled at him, while rubbing her forehead.  Potter leaned forward to rummage through her medicine cabinet, coming up with a bottle containing a headache remedy, "Have you talked to Mom yet?"

            "No.  She and Severus are still with your brother.  He is a very stubborn boy sometimes.  Rather like his sister."

            "And his mother." She knocked back the honey-colored mixture.

            Dumbledore smirked, "What message did she have for me?"

            "Harry is not up for staying the entire meeting and, frankly, I wouldn't want him to sit through one right now anyway.  He does not need to hear about the missions I ask of the members or our plans against Voldemort, especially now that he is so…vulnerable." The redhead was babbling, and she knew it.  However, her message still got across.

            "I'll take over for you when you chose to leave.  I doubt there will be much to discuss anyhow."

            "You rule."

            Albus eyed her, "Excuse me?"

            "American saying.  Along the same lines as wicked."

            "Ah." Another of his seemingly endless smiles, "I received a letter today from Remus Lupin.  He was contacted not long ago by a lawyer named Daus Newlon."

            She looked at him with a mirror of his own knowing gaze, "Mum's friend.  He was her pen-pal while she was at Hogwarts."

            "Well, you were supposed to acquire the deed to a house when you turned eighteen.  Unfortunately, you are dead…" She snorted, causing him to pause, "and Harry is still several years too young to be given such an item."

            "What if Papa gets it placed in his name for now?  If it was Mum's house than it's paid for already and there just has to be someone to hold the deed."

            The elder nodded and studied her for a few seconds more, then turned on his heel and left.

            Her earlier brooding thoughts were replaced with brighter ones, "Only my family."

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com__


	11. Chapter Eleven

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Eleven

-*-*-

            At two-thirty in the morning on the dot, the group of adults and students appeared just outside Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Severus and Heather were the only ones in the group dressed warmly, so the rest were consequently shivering, though Albus was doing his best to hide it.

            "So what shall we do now?" Ron implored, curiosity getting the best of him.

            "We wait a moment while I figure out where Thea and Tommy are." She stared into the castle, and shook her head, "Those two…"

            "Can't we just meet them there?" Hermione's voice of reason added.

            "Nope.  Unfortunately, there's a bit of a dress code for the Order.  We all wear the same robes, albeit different sizes, as a form of strength between us.  And I don't know why, but I asked the twins to bring the robes tonight." She stared up at the sky, muttered under her breath, "Next time I get them."

            "Oh, right…like you would be able to find them!" Thea walked toward them, a barely-perceptible limp elongating her stride.

            "Shush up you!" She laughed at her friend as the white robes were thrown at her face, "You know I really don't want to have to clean them _again_ so stop _throwing_ them." She handed out the garments.

            Tommy rolled his eyes, "Both of you quit it.  We need to get out of here and to headquarters.  Lord knows that if we leave the members waiting long enough, we'll have half looking for us and half hunting down…certain people."

            "Touché."

            The bickering started again, but the younger of the children were too busy looking at each other to hear them.  The robes were silk.  Harry had never had anything made of silk before or anything white beyond his button down school shirt.  It was starting to warm him, centralized from one path – the embroidery of a phoenix mid-flight in the foreground of a diamond sun.

            "Severus Mathias Snape!" Albus chastised, smiling, bringing the students attention back to the argument.

            "Albus Johann Dumbledore!" Minerva jumped in.

            The red-haired girl sighed as the two men shouted out the transfigurations teacher's full name, "Alright, now that we've all been informed that Mom's middle name is Sarai, can we go?" She didn't wait for any response, instead moving forward to the lake.

            Harry caught up to her quickly and placed his hand in hers, "How are we going to get to…headquarters?" He took a moment to think of the word used earlier.

            "Portkey."

            He tensed momentarily, and she spoke again, "I made this portkey, love.  Nothing is going to happen to you or Ron or Hermione.  I promise."

            The new teacher knew that it did little to alleviate his fear, but she hoped that he realized that she had kept all her promises so far.

            At the edge of the lake, the two siblings stopped and waited temporarily for the rest of the group.  When they were together at last, Heather bent over to retrieve a splintering oar from behind some reeds, "You guys know the drill."

            Everyone reached forward and held on.  The familiar pull under their navels, then a sudden feeling of ground once again.

            "I hate portkeys.  Next time, we floo." Thea moaned.

            "Yeah, see…for that to work, we'd actually have to be, oh, _connected_ to the network." Heather taunted, dusting herself off.

            Minerva rolled her eyes at their behavior, before striding toward the edge of a forest.

            "Where are we?"

            "Sorry, love.  Can't tell you yet." The redheaded girl began following her godmother, her brother's hand firmly tucked into her own.

            Slowly, they made it up a small hill, weaving through trees and bushes, and finally ended up in the shadow of a huge castle.  It practically loomed over them, a glow of gold coming off it.  The huge stones were built high into the sky, but never seemed to rise above the trees.

            "Wow." Fred was blown away.

            "Two-hundred forty-nine." Thomas murmured, and at the questioning look from the others, spoke again to explain, "You are the two-hundred forty-ninth person to say wow upon seeing the Order."

            The huge front doors, solid oak from the looks of it, slid open to reveal several other people dressed in the white robes.

            "Where the bloody hell have you been?!" A short blonde, about Heather's age, demanded.

            Heather stared at the person, "Jonay, go back inside." It was an order, and the girl had no choice but to comply.

            "Jonay, wait up!" Thea suddenly called out a moment after the huffy teenager walked away, "I'll meet you at the High." She whispered to her best friend, before dashing to meet up with the other.

            "Alright.  When we go into the Main Hall, Harry and I will walk ahead of everybody else.  Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore, as well as Thomas, will follow and we'll all end up in a group of chairs at the front of the room.  You four, however, are going to sit with Mr. Weasley."

            "Which one?" George couldn't stop the retort from falling past his lips.

            "Your father." She didn't skip a beat, then once again took Harry's hand and continued into the building.

            Entering into the castle, the students were surprised to find that it was much like the foyer of Hogwarts, down to the corridor to the Main Hall, as Heather had called it.  They quickly came upon a set of silver doors reaching from floor to ceiling, where the new teacher pulled the hood of the robe up over her hair, almost obscuring her eyes, then turned to her brother to pull his up as well.  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as the rest of her little group followed suit.

            The doors opened, revealing the most simplistically magnificent room any had ever seen.

            The walls were dull yet sparkling gold, with a high ceiling of wooden beams.  Columns not only stood in neat lines at the sides of the room; they graced the wall directly ahead of them.  Many long tables, like the ones in the Great Hall of the school were placed horizontally so the table's occupants automatically faced their leader.

            And their leader sat in an ornate gold and silver throne-like chair with a high back that ended a good foot above Heather's head, or so Harry estimated.  It seemed plush, fabrics of maroon-red and dark green softening the places where her body would come in contact.

            Slowly, the Potter siblings pressed on walking down the aisle between the two groupings of tables.  The younger of the two soon became frightfully aware that he was being watched, and he clung to his sister. _I want to go._

            **I know, Love.  But I just need to address them, so they can see that you are alright and I am fine.  They worry too much some times, and they're insanely protective.**

            He understood the point she was trying to get across.  However, he still held her hand painfully tight.  The black-haired boy made a mental note when his friends parted and sat down beside the Oldest Mr. Weasley.  He smiled slightly at the sight.  It took his mind off the current, causing him to not be fully aware that everyone else had breathed a sigh of relief.

            "Harry." Heather nodded toward the three steps that lead up the dais to the row of eleven chairs.  There were five to either side of his sister's, wooden but still as ornate, with bronze inlays and Latin words carved into the backs.

            Each of the adults moved from around the duo and sat, filling in the empty chairs until two were left, "Do I sit there?" He asked when he noticed the way Minerva patted the seat.

            "Yes.  Go sit and hold Mom's hand if you have to.  If it'll be better, I could temporarily move Mom and Papa so you could sit next to him." She offered.

            He shook his head, "I'll be alright." Hesitantly, the teenager moved to the vacant piece of furniture and watched as the Order leader went to her own.

            The High Council was assembled, in order from Heather's left: Jonay, Professor Flitwick, McGonagall, Harry, Thea, their insufferable-at-times leader, Thomas, the headmaster, Snape, Percy Weasley, and a brunette none of the teenagers could identify.

            "This meeting of the Order of the Phoenix will now come to order!"

            "Fish and chips!" One of the members immediately rang out.

            The girl's delicate pale hands rubbed her temples, "Funny, Mikhail.  Real funny.  Now I know we have not had a meeting in a while due to unforeseeable circumstances, but that doesn't mean we can goof off.  I have some issues to discuss and I'd like to do them as quickly as possible so I can get my brother back to the school."

            There was a low murmur of agreement mixed with discontent, which soon halted.

            "The first matter is that of Harrison.  As all of you can see, he's alive.  He knows who I am and my parents are already stepping in."

            Another mutter, this time of happiness.

            "So that means that there will be _no_ hunting down those people.  There will be _no_ kidnapping or maiming of the Dursleys, either." She warned, sitting up impossibly straighter in her chair, "I must have everyone's word on this."

            "Heather, we love you, but you cannot let us sit idly by while…" A voice from the middle left of the room.

            "While what?  The damage is done."

            "But…"

            "Oh, for the love of…" A thought struck the redhead, **Harry, do you want these numbskulls to go out and find the people who hurt you?  I mean I actually don't have any qualms with it; I just don't want them to be anywhere near you…I don't want them to know what they have done.**

            The babbling soothed the aching nerves – she didn't know what to say either…it was refreshing, _I…I want to forget about them, sis._ He leaned forward and looked at her, _An eye for an eye makes everyone blind._

            She nodded, "Perhaps you'd like to consult Harrison on the issue." Her left eyebrow rose.

            The members shook their heads.

            "Alright then.  Albus will be heading the rest of the meeting, but first, I'd like an update on Sirius's mission in America."

            Arthur stood up, "He's gotten the majority of the information.  If all goes well tonight, he will be on his way home tomorrow afternoon."

            "Good.  Please remind Mrs. Weasley to stress that should anything happen that compromises his position, he is to return.  I do not wish him to risk his life over this."

            The man nodded and smiled knowingly at her, "I will."

            "Is there any business that I should be made aware of?" She normally asked at the end of the meeting…

            _I want to stay.  I thought everyone was staring at me for a different reason than they are.  I like this._

            "Nevermind.  It appears that I will be staying for a while yet, so…" She stood, and stretched, "I hate that chair." She spoke under her breath, when a sudden ripple in the room turned her attention.  It was emotion…something she hadn't felt before, but she knew instinctively what it was.  Her eyes sought out the source from the over one-hundred-fifty people who had managed to come to the Castle of Fire.

            "Heather?" Fred stared up at her – her eyes were flaring with gold.

            "There's a traitor in our wake." She lisped, loud enough for her minions to hear.

            Several people stood and began looking about the room wildly, as if there would be a large neon sign blinking 'Traitor…Traitor' above the offender's head.

            "Where?" Jonay was among those who stood, and she turned to her friend, "Do you have an idea who?"

            "Yes." The word was soft spoken, "And it makes no sense." Slowly she descended the long dais, before strolling to a young man in the front right of the tables, "Mitchell, would you like to tell me what is going on?"

            "No…Nothing." He stammered out.

            She gave him her patented death-stare, on loan from her father, "Really?" It was monotone and smooth.

            "Umm, well…" He gave in and panicked, "I didn't…knowthatweweren'tsupposedtogoout…" He noticed the look in her eyes and began to speak slower, "And give those people justice so I went and saw the Dursleys.  Andnowthey'rehere." He sped through the last piece.

            The anger caused her blood to boil, then cast a glance at her brother.  His eyes were worried, scared.  The elder Potter closed her eyes and shoved the hatred back.  "Mitch, you are in more trouble than I can speak right now.  I promise I'm not mad at you, that's why I'm going to reserve the right to explain your punishment later because if I were to voice it now, I'd probably start yelling."

            "Yes, ma'am."

            "Where are the Dursleys?" She inquired, while trying to calm her frazzled nerves.  He gave no answer, "Now!"

            He swallowed thickly, "He…here.  In the dungeons."

            "They're in the dungeons?!"

            Jonay snorted, "Got what they deserve."

            Immediately Heather turned around, "No.  They…they deserve some sort of punishment for willful neglect of a child, but not at our hands.  It'd be better for them to be tried by the Muggles.  Not us."

            "But…but…"

            She returned her sight to the boy, "Take them back to Privet Drive.  I will speak with them at a later date about their…care of my brother." The redhead sighed, then tripped forward and fell directly onto the dais stairs.  Severus was beside her instantly – dark eyes looking into golden ones.

            He had learned early on with her to not stop her visions; the damage to her psyche would not be good if he did.  Especially since Dumbledore had made that mistake earlier.  Moments passed.

            "I am developing a severe hatred toward the Deatheaters." Her voice was cracked, and she mutely rubbed her eyes then temples, "I think that it's time I went home.  Grandpa, if you please." He nodded in response, helping Minerva rise.

            The male professor gingerly picked his daughter up, noting that Minerva was doing the same to their now sleeping son.  Swiftly, both left the Order's Main Hall, making their way outside where another portkey was waiting on the moist, dewy ground.

            "There's only one." He remarked.

            "I know.  Tommy will make another." Her voice was a bare whisper, her eyelids dropping.

            The two professors touched it.

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com

Okay, I think I might issue a challenge if I can get the details straight in my mind.  Lemme know if anyone would be interested.


	12. Chapter Twelve

A/N: Tinuviel: :::wink:::  You'll find out…  (You missed a clue though!)  BTW – thank you for reviewing like every two chapters!  As well as K00lgirl1808.  :-D

Also – later in the story I mention a Wiccan prayer of protection.   This is the one: _Goddess of love, honor and hope. Grant my wish of needing help. Guide me through this time of need; this time of loneliness and despair. Heed my call of wishes. Love me as I love you. Grant my wish of protection and lead me to higher ground._  I'm not Wiccan, but one of my friends who is was telling me about the religion and I figured that Severus would be Wiccan.  It kinda goes along with his character – misunderstood, but very good, very kind.  I haven't decided yet if Heather will be Wiccan or not.  She seems more the God believing type to me.

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Twelve

-*-*-

            It was a little after noon when Harry woke, eyes blinking sleepily.  Sunlight was pouring in from an enchanted painting that hung behind the wood and metal canopy bed, and streaking across the deep green comforter.  Soft breathing beside him caused the boy to freeze until he realized that he was definitely still clothed.

            The fifteen-year old's gaze shifted.

            Severus was snoring delicately, half his face obscured by the fluff of the pillow.

            _'He's so different.'_ The raven-haired teen thought to himself, _'Not like school.  I wonder if he's always like this or if Heather is threatening him.'_

            Sighing, he decided he wanted a bath and stood up quickly, hoping that the swift movement wouldn't wake his father.

            "Humm…" The elder man flipped over, and snuggled back into the blanket.

            Potter let out the breath he had been holding, then padded into the bathroom.  He wasn't sure that he had turned the water on until his eyes registered that he had and he began to remove his shirt.

            The scars showed first, the most prominent one running from his right shoulder and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers.  He traced it with a finger, as a memory returned to him in flashes.  It hurt to think of the ground, the person, the air…

            "Harry?" The name was spoken sleepily, the sound of rumpling sheets warning the boy that the professor was awake.

            Potter was silent as he continued to note the path of each scar.

            "Harrison?" The voice was slightly panicked.

            Again, silence was the man's answer.  The teenager was fully enveloped in his memories.  It was a torrent of previously suppressed thoughts, ones he was helpless to avoid.

            The door crashed open, allowing Heather to fly into the room, "Harry!"  She reached a hand to him and placed it on his shoulder, **Harry.  Snap out of it.**

            His eyes traveled past her to Snape.

            "I remember it all now.  I didn't hold it back." The boy's voice was deadly calm.  And it caused Snape to actually fear for the boy.  He hadn't before, as the fifteen-year old always had Heather to soothe him.  However, this was something she couldn't help with.  She could sympathize, but she could not empathize.

            "Heath, go eat." The elder's almost-ebony eyes never left his son.  He heard her scurry away, before, "We're going to talk about this."

            Harry cowered, stepping backward, "No."

            "Yes, we are." Severus moved to the child, "Remember that Veritaserum has been authorized by the ministry."

            "Please don't make me…"

            The thirty-something snatched the youth into his arms, rubbing the thin back, "I understand, love.  I know it hurts to think about and saying it happened makes it truly real, but it's over now.  It's time to move on with you life."

            Tears started to moisten the pajama top, "I don't want it to be real.  I want it to be a dream."

            Slowly, the professor slid down the wall to the floor.

-*-*-

            Heather, meanwhile, trumped the long distance from the cool dungeons to the warmth of her own chambers, where she tugged on clean clothes and brushed her hair.  A quick brush of her teeth followed, then she was off to the Great Hall for a report from Albus.

            "Good morning."

            Hermione, Ron, and the twins mumbled something sounded like 'morning', but she wasn't quite sure.  She smiled at them anyway, amused by their response to the late night meeting stealing their slumber time.

            "So did I miss anything after I left?" the nearly-nineteen year old inquired, as she dug into her pile of food choices.  She poked at the bond, to find Harry had discovered the art of blocking her, and her ears returned to the conversation she had initiated.

            "Apparently Mitchell was not the only one involved in the Dursleys…capture." Minerva supplied, "Brian and Stanna were there."

            "How _did_ they get the three of them to the Order's dungeons?"

            Thea proceeded to start laughing, forcing Thomas to answer, "Apparently, it only takes two to hog-tie Vernon and Dudley.  And one to get Petunia."

            The elder Potter child started laughing, causing her to nearly choke on her lunch, "What?"

            "The 'we'll-act-now-get-in-trouble-later' trio decided to hog-tie and apparate those people.  Unfortunately, they didn't get splinched." The boy responded, a mild dose of venom in the second sentence.

            Her coughing subsided, "They were returned and oblivated, I trust?"

            "Yes.  We saw to it personally." Remus came up behind her, "Jonay and I."

            "Hi, Uncle Remy." She stared up at him, jovially, "Have any word on Uncle Siri?"

            He nodded, "Mission accomplished.  He's on his way home as we speak."

            "Good." She tugged his hand and forcibly shoved him into the chair beside her, "Eat." A plate was pushed toward the werewolf, "I'm giving him a month off."

            "A month?  Are you sure about that?  It might not be a good idea to let Sirius have more than a week." He greedily started nibbling on some scones.

            She nodded to the affirmative, "I believe you might be able to keep him occupied."

            The twins' eyes grew saucer huge.

            "Ew.  Ew ew ew ew.  I really don't need to even think of that." She dropped her fork, "Oh, sweet Merlin, the image is burned into my eyelids!"

            "Stop that." Lupin laughed, "You know that is not the case, so quit acting like child."

            She stopped at once, a playful grin still plastered to her lips, "I need to speak with Yallenoa this afternoon, so you all will be left to your own devices.  Unless Harry calls for you, please don't go see him today."

            McGonagall took in the carefully constructed mask on her daughter's face, and sent the girl a glare which spoke volumes, then, "I'm sure I can come up with something for them to do.  I imagine that Miss Granger might be able to help me teach her friends a few things."

            Hermione's eyes lit up, the Weasley brothers moaned.

            The redhead smirked, "That's sounds fun.  Maybe they could get a jumpstart on their DADA lessons.  I have a few…items in my room they may use."

            "You aren't seriously going to begin the term with _weaponry_, are you?" Lupin asked, surprised by her obvious choice.

            "I am." A slurp of a soup followed the brief statement.

            "You're going to give swords to teenagers?"

            She paused for thought, "Is there a problem with that, Uncle Remy?"

            "There might be if Gryffindor and Slytherin are to have class together this year.  And since those two houses have had DADA at the same time forever, I hope you plan to have Madame Pomfrey nearby." His advice had an air of amusement, but it was truthful nonetheless.  Having rival houses in a DADA class with all sorts of manual weapons might not be as good an idea than she had figured.

            "Touché."

            The group continued to chitchat for a few more moments, until Heather rose from her seat and bade everyone a good day.  She exited the Hall, made her way up to her rooms, where she once again changed her clothing.

            Soon adored in a simple white early renaissance dress, she tugged on a cloak of deep green with a large Celtic cross embroidered into it with gold thread.  She wore no shoes in her own custom, with her red tresses hanging down from the hair thong it had been placed in.  Sighing deeply, the teenager placed a locket around her neck, tucking it into her clothing for safekeeping.  A thin sliver bracelet, inscribed magically to display a Wiccan prayer of protection, followed deftly by the words, _'Be careful.  Nothing is more important than your life.'_ had been a gift from her father when she took up her position as Head of the Order.

            Finally dressed for her mission, she moved to her fireplace, threw in the powder, and spoke, her voice velvet smooth, "Potter's summer home!" She stepped into the flames, and disappeared in an instant.

-*-*-

            By suppertime, Severus and Harry were still sitting in the bathroom, the elder trying to coax anything out of the boy.

            "Harrison, please talk to me." He was desperate now.

            "I can't."

            "You can.  You're a strong person who's quite brave and bloody brilliant when you want to be." He absently stroked the hair, "There isn't a thing you cannot do."

            A deep sigh, then, "I can't do this."

            Tiredly, Snape stood with his son in all but law wrapped securely in his arms.  He shuffled from the room and settled the youth back into the bed, before sweeping through to the workroom.  The black-haired boy could hear the sound of glass clinking together, as the professor's nimble fingers sorted through the various vials and bottles.

            Two and two started to add up, causing the boy to start to panic.  But he couldn't get out of the room, because the elder had returned with what Potter had feared.

            "No."

            "You are going to take this." His voice was forceful, as he presented the single dose of Veritaserum.

            "No." Harry's anger level was rising.  His alertness, on the other hand, was dropping, so he was completely surprised when Severus leaned over to pin him down.  The liquid came soon after.

            Another few minutes had it in full affect, and the probing started, "Now, we're going to start at the beginning with basic questions." The boy's hands were securely held in his father's, "Harry, how old were you when the Dursleys' put you in the cupboard?"

            "One." A look of fear was in his eyes as he replied.  He was terrified, of what his elder might force from him.

            "They must've put you there the day you arrived." A litany of curses – mostly aimed at the headmaster, ran through the potion master's mind, "How old were you when the physical abuse started?"

            The answer was at the tip of his tongue, and the scarred boy struggled to keep it in.  Ultimately, the potion won, "Three."

            "And the manual labor?"

            "Six."

            Severus again swore to himself.  Heather had been right all along.  From the day that he had been left with their aunt and uncle, she had protested, begging for him to come back.

            "Why did Vernon leave you in London?"

            "I interrupted him when he was entertaining someone."

            His curiosity was piqued, "How did you interrupt?"

            "I didn't know that there was someone coming over, so when eight came, I went downstairs to serve supper.  I exposed my freakishness."

            "Freakishness?  Is that what you think you are?  A freak?"

            Harry's gaze traveled past his teacher, "Sometimes."

            He sighed, and continued, "After that Muggle left you, what did you do?  No, wait.  I'll bet I already know your answer.  You are more Slytherin than Gryffindor anyway." He paused for thought, "Do remember what the first person looked like?  The first one that hurt you?"

            "Yes."

            "Do you know his name?"

            "Charles." A sob escaped with the name.

            The professor flitted through his mental database, "What's the rest of Charles' name?"

            "John Charles."

            Shock filled the man's mind – a member of the Order had raped the boy.  A person who had pledged to the leader of said organization to protect all Harry from physical harm when the teen was away from his family.  Had pledged it multiple times, in front of a hundred witnesses.

            "Harry, you are going to repeat after me."

            "Yes."

            "I was raped."

            The previous enragement Potter had held in his bones melted away to a deep sorrow as the words pressed out of his mouth, "I was raped." The reality set it.

            The older man was right – it wasn't truly real until it had been spoken aloud.

            Suddenly, the fifteen-year old was aware that another potion was being poured into his mouth and he swallowed reflexively.  He could feel his control returning, as well as realizing that he must've been given the antidote.

            _Heather?_ He called, knowing she always kept her senses open enough to hear him.

            ** Yes, love?**

            _Veritaserum._

            The boy could sense the sigh, **I'm sorry, ****Deartháir.  I didn't know.  I'm not even at Hogwarts right now, but when I get back…**

            _It was Papa._

            **Harry, he would never hurt you.  Trust me.  Please.**

            It was implied that he did and he looked to his new father, "I'm hungry."

            Severus' breath of relief was not missed by the youth, "What would you like to eat?  I'm not quite sure what you are particularly fond of."

            "Hot chocolate." Enthusiasm slipped into the words, "And French toast." His stomach rumbled to prove the point that he was clearly not enough for a boy his age.

            "Anything else?" The elder man was fully unaware that the way that which he had asked the question caused Potter to tremble once again.

            "No." He turned his sight to his hands – they really were most interesting.

            Snape bit his tongue, and sat down as close to the boy as he could, "Oh, Harry.  I didn't mean to make you think you can't ask for more."

            "Where's Heather?" Diversionary tactics proved fruitful normally.

            "She's visiting a member of the High Council.  Yallenoa." He reached into the bedside table, withdrawing yet another potion.

            "Do you keep those things everywhere?" The almost-fifth year joked.

            The professor grinned, "You'll have to find out.  Now this is something to settle your stomach.  I'm going to order several different items besides your request and I want you to eat some of everything.  However, since you haven't truly enjoyed a normal meal since, I assume, the end of the school year, I doubt you'll be able to consume much more than a few bites without this."

            "It'll make eating easier?"

            Severus nodded, "Yes."

            "You're sure?" There was worry in the green depths.

            The man nodded, "Now.  I am going to ring Dobby.  Do you want to go sit on the couch or stay in bed?"

            Harry didn't know what to do.  He was tired of the man's incessant questioning, not to mention that he absolutely loathed that his mind had been at the mercy of someone else.  Yet he knew there was an insatiable need to be near another human being, and at the moment, he needed that human being to be a father.

            "Where will you be?"

            "I have lesson plans to write, so I am planning on planting myself in front of the fire."

            The boy nodded, "Couch then." He was lifted gently to his feet, and trotted into the sitting room, where various papers from the night before still lay spread about the coffee table.

            "Heather will be back soon." The _'I hope.'_ remained within the professor's subconscious, "And knowing her, she will probably bring you something.  While we wait, however, you could go pick some books off the shelves.  I recently came into quite a collection of ones on Quidditch and Animagi.  A few on flying as well." The elder offered, then sat down in his desk chair.

            The boy dashed into the study.  He returned moments later with a book beneath his arm, plopped down on the couch and began to read.

            He chose to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut.

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com

You guys have no clue how proud I am of myself – this was written, spellchecked, and proofread (not necessarily in that order) within three days.  And it's my longest chapter yet!__


	13. Chapter Thirteen

A/N: Alright, so I made up my mind.  Heather's not a Wiccan, but because both Severus and James are/were (in my sordid little mind), she does take part in several pieces of the religion.  The candle colors mentioned have a use in rituals; the flowers and stones too.  The website I used this time was: .****

-*-*-

Heather Hidden

Chapter Thirteen

-*-*-

            By dawn, the pain in Harry's gut had magnified.

            By dawn, Heather had still not returned.

            And by dawn, the identity of the true traitor was known.

            "I can't believe that we actually trusted her!" Thomas exclaimed, slamming his forehead down onto his crossed hands.

            The Order had assembled around midday at the castle, the Main Hall more crowded than it had ever been before.  The members were outraged – then enraged upon seeing the empty chair that the redhead normally groaned about.  And further angered when they realized who had accessed the portkey that the twins had used.

            "You know that her allegiance would explain how our inventories were off.  Or why some of our spies have been discovered." Victoria Grey commented, "She was the person Heather trusted to keep track of those items."

            "So what do we do now?" Harry looked around at the people who had silenced immediately from the sound of his voice.

            They looked between each other.

            "Harry, I don't think there's much we _can_ do.  It may be up to your sister." Severus explained quietly.

            He grasped the armrests of his chair and leaned forward, "No!  There has to be _something_!" He couldn't cope with them any longer and dashed from the room, running aimlessly deeper into the castle.  His brained reeled through every possibility, every shred of hope.

            Then he proceeded to smack his entire body into a thick wall.  The hallway had ended.  He was now lost in the upper level of the building with but one door to his right.  With nothing left to do, the boy entered into the room.

            It was cozy affair.  A large lead-patterned window allowed soft moonlight to reveal a silver metal frame and green linens which made up a bed, with a huge red drape behind the non-existent headboard.  A pewter candelabra stood beside the piece of furniture with a single brown ball candle burning.  At the foot of the bed, a plush blue couch, which seemed to be on its last legs, had several books on one cushion.

            A side table was pushed close to the wall beside the door.  The unmistakable Hogwarts emblem hanging on the stone above the surface, glistening in the light of three royal blue pillar candles.  The hot objects were situated at the middle of the table on a gold plate, with roses and lilacs in a clear glass vase to the left.  To the right, closest to the door, was a clear glass bowl filled with small stones – aquamarine, bloodstone, emerald, and tiger-eye being the few the youth could identify.

            Then Harry realized what he had found.  This had to be Heather's home away from home.  Her little hideout when the going got tough.  She had told him about it the night had gone to se…yell at her, promising that one day the new teacher would take her brother to visit it.

            He turned to go to the bed, to relax at last with her unique scent of vanilla and apple, when he caught sight of peeking out from behind the red drape.  Carefully, he pulled the fabric away, being mindful of the candelabra, to be introduced to his sibling's hidden stash of family sentimentals.

            Dried flowers, more stones, a few bracelets sat on the wood placed into the hole made in the wall.  Beneath that shelve was another, where a set of books were laid on their sides, the titles print upside down.  Beside them, a small box, much like the one that Heather had passed on to him from their mother was sitting with the letters H.L.P. carved in.  His sister's then.

            "Harry?" Snape had come.

            The teenager emerged from the item obscuring his body, "I…Heath…It was…"

            "Knowing your sister, she probably made it impossible for you to not find her little lair." The man had his arms crossed and a look of distaste on his face, "Have you found anything of interest?"

            "Not particularly, no." The reply was truthful.  This room, though smaller than the one she had near the Gryffindor dormitory, was what he'd expect from her.  It held no true house colors, as Heather had explained to him that she didn't hold a loyalty to any of the four – but rather to all of them.

            Severus sighed, and reached into the bowl of stones to retrieve a black one.

            "What's that?  I don't know them all." Harry inquired, curious to know the answer.

            "Black Tourmaline.  I'll explain it to you another time." The man promised, "Now, we should get back downstairs.  The Council has decided a course of action and you should be in bed.  It's very late."

            "Can I ask you something?" The black-haired child asked, as they passed through the doorway.

            Closing the wooden barrier tightly, the professor replied, "Of course you can."

            "Why is it called the High Council if Heather is the Leader?"

            Severus smiled, "Because she maybe a very bright, strategic person, but she doesn't know everything, as she'll readily admit.  And when she took the throne, so to speak, she established the Council as a board of advisors almost.  She likens it to the Yanks' Presidential Cabinet.  Everyone is expert on something for it – the Headmaster is her renaissance man, I handle potions, your mother transfigurations.  Percy Weasley's a very logical strategist.  Thomas and Dorothea are the enigmas.  We're not sure what they're on the Council for, but they've never failed a mission."

            "Oh."

            They had continued down the hallway in silence, brooding on their thoughts, while Harrison tried to reach his sister.

            "Harry, it's unlikely that she'll be able to hear you.  I'm sure you can sense her emotions, her pain, but I don't think she can reach back to you in any way.  Yallenoa has probably informed the Dark Lord of the Adiuvo and he has come up with some way of rendering her unable to use it." The professor reached a hand to grasp his son's, "And I know that it is hurting her to not have access to it."

            By the time they reached the foyer to the Main Hall, the doors almost twinkling in the non-existent sunlight, Potter was ready to admit that he was tired, and opened his mouth to say so.  Except he was cut off.

            The castle's foundation shook, causing tapestries to fall to the ground and paintings to yell as they smacked against the walls.  Dust and dirt flitted down from the ceiling, as well as several candles to spew wax from the chandeliers.

            Without warning, the huge doors screeched open.  The members of the Order poured out, and swept the two males into the fray as they exited the huge building.  Once outside and in the light of the evening, they could all see the shaking come to a halt – just before flames began to lick the side of the golden-glow stones.  No one moved.

            Yet it didn't burn.  Nothing inside was catching fire, nor did any of the items on the exterior.  The Castle of Fire was living up to its name, as it's wards degraded.  Its heir was not there to fix it, so the intense red-white heat would have to run its course.

            "THAT'S IT!" Remus Lupin exclaimed, as all stood transfixed before the sight, "We have to find her.  This will not end until she is safely at home."

            A voice grimly added, "Or she's dead."

-*-*-

            "I should never have trusted that…that bastard!" Yallenoa Skye huffed.

            "Ya' think!" Was Heather's automatic reply, as she tried to not look at the seventeen-year old girl across the room from her.

            It had been a simple idea: from the family summer home, go to a sacred place in the Irish country side that had been stripped of a name many years before, the dark-skinned witch would meet her there.

            That's not what happened.

            Upon arriving at the destination, the traitor was standing by with Lucius Malfoy and several other Deatheaters.  The elder Potter child knew that she wouldn't be able to escape, not when the girl must've told her master everything.  So the redhead was pretty much defenseless.

            "Shut up, Potter!"

            "No way in hell!" The leader of the Order was getting angry, "You're the one who chose to be a git.  I have done nothing to you beyond take you into my _home_ when your mother died, then found you another family who would love you, raise you.  I got you sent to the school you wanted to go to.  Now I think you owe me an explanation on why you have betrayed both Harry and I."

            The younger glared daggers, "My mother would not have died if you hadn't sent her on that suicide mission."

            "I did not pick her to go.  And it was never a suicide mission." The daggers were returned with more force than necessary.

            "Really?  Then why didn't anyone tell me where or why she was going?"  
            "Because you were fourteen!" Heather sighed, "Your mother knew there was a slight risk that if she were to be found out, that she would most probably be returning home in a casket.  I begged her, literally, on my hands and knees, to not go.  I would ask another to go, someone without children.  She told me that what was to be was to be and made me promise not to tell you anything.  Do you really think I would have sent her knowingly to her death?"

            "Yes."

            "Then you are as thickheaded as your father was."

            A primal scream echoed through the dungeon holding room, as the brunette dragged the other up and pressed her to the wall, "You got her killed!"  
            "No.  You did.  Or do you not remember placing the picture and the note in her bag when she left?  That was what destroyed her story.  She was under suspicion when she arrived at the Deatheater meeting, and all Lucius…that prat you have allied yourself with now…needed to do was open her suitcase to know the truth." The anger was so palatable in Heather's voice, it scared Skye, "You want to blame me for letting Miranda go, fine.  You want to punish me, I'm game and I'll take it all.  But this…this is not either of those, Yallenoa.  This is a death sentence.  For you and I.  And Harry."

            She dropped her former leader, "Oh god, the Adiuvo…"

            "Didn't think of that, did you?  Have you forgotten what it was like when Karmanel died?  I do because you screamed until your throat bled.  You bit me in a frenzy and hexed my father.  You two, however, had that bond starting from when he was six and you were five.  Harry's had this from the age of _one_.  I die and he most probably will become an invalid for the rest of his life."

            "Fuck."

            Slowly, calmly, Heather tamped her anger down – it would do her no good at the moment.  Then she sat back down on the floor, listening as Yallenoa began to pace the room and whisper to herself.  She reached out for her brother, only to find that she couldn't feel him.  She tried again.

            Still nothing.  Almost as if someone had left the bond, yet blocked her from any inquiries he made.

            The red-haired teenager closed her eyes and turned her intuition inward, scanning every part of her body for pain, sickness, tampering…there in her stomach lay a potion she didn't know.  So she did the most disgusting thing she'd ever done to herself before.

            Potter forced herself to vomit.

            "What are you doing?"

            Wiping her lips, the girl replied with a cough, "I'm getting us out of here." And tried to gage what Skye was thinking, before engaging her mind once again, **Harrison.**

            There was no reply, but she could feel him.  He was awestruck and gob-smacked.

            **Now what is so interesting?**

            She knew he was beginning to hear her, _Heath…er?_ Came the reply.  The bit of potion that she had been forced to drink at some point when she was unconscious hours before obviously had been absorbed into her blood stream.

            **Harry.**

            _The castle's on fire._

            **Well, it has been six months, hasn't it?  No matter.  The headquarters will be fine.**

            _Wh…ere…are…yo…u?_

            **I don't know.  Tell Papa to not do anything stupid.**

            His understanding seeped through to her, and the nearly-nineteen year old rose from the floor, "Where are we?"

            "They never told me." Yallenoa shook her head, "They expected that I might be a spy and tell someone what was going to happen, so they didn't tell me much."

            Heather swore harshly, "Are we the only one's here?"

            "Yes.  They left us here to die."

            Seemingly without purpose, the redhead placed a hand on one wall and began to walk around the square room, tracing the stones as she went.  Her fingertips translated to her brain – large crack, what was once a doorway and was now bricked up, cool metal from a window…  Each imperfection catalogued into her memory.  She did it twice, three times, and each time stopped in a particular area.

            At what would've been her fourth trek around the cell, the teen stood in front of the spot.  There was something about it, like it were hiding something.  So she cautiously reached a hand forward and touched the center with her palm.

            And a door of cracked wood appeared.

            Yallenoa leapt forward, only to be grabbed by her ex-friend, now only ally left, "No."

            "But…"

            "He maybe a fanatical murder, but Tom is by no means stupid.  There are bound to be hexes and curses surrounding that thing, or something on the other side will be waiting.  Right now, I want you to sit down and let me think."

            Skye did as she was ordered, out of, if nothing else, training, and watched as Heather continued to stand before the exit, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

-*-*-

            The fire had raged on through the night, many members staying behind to keep the massive number of charms up so no one could accidentally come across a burning castle.  Those who hadn't stayed, which Harry was surprised to find that some were Muggles, returned to their homes.  Any ideas that could help with the last-minute plan were to be reported to Thomas or Thea.

            It was six a.m. before anyone got any semblance of sleep at Hogwarts, with the exceptions of Harry and Severus.  The fifteen-year old refused to sleep, and the father refused to let the child stay up by himself.

            "Thank you Dobby." Harry heard sometime around six-thirty, and left the library to find that Snape had ordered food them both.

            "Not hungry."

            "You are a terrible liar sometimes.  Come.  Eat." The raven-haired man had already settled into the rocking chair, and patted his knee.

            Suddenly, the aching hunger that had been suppressed for days on end began crawling through his body, and before he knew it, Harry was sitting on the professor's lap, the back of his head against the black shoulder, and a plate of fresh food in his hands.

            "Well, now, that seems to have solved the problem." Severus chuckled, and rubbed his son's arm, before leaning back and sighing.

            "What's the matter?" Potter managed to ask around a mouth full of mash, then thought the better of what he had asked.  For a moment he had gotten a reprieve from reality.  He put the dish down, turned, and proceeded to bury his face into the man's neck.

            "Harry?" The potions master whispered quietly, when he realized the boy wasn't crying.

            "She hurts."

            "How?  How does she hurt?"

            A hand went up the youth's hair, as the reply came, "Bleeding."

            The man's eyes closed against the memory of another forced into the unimaginable position, "Where?"

            "Stomach.  Ears." Harry refused to remove his face from its spot, beginning to tremble lightly, "Hurts all over now.  Like a curse.  Ow." The grip on his father became tighter, crushing almost.

            "Harry.  You know how to block her.  You have to right now."

            Eventually, the child began to ease his touch, and relaxed.  Only to be startled again when Sirius came slamming into the room, Dumbledore and Lupin nipping at the animagi's heels.

            "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON?!" The man bellowed.

            Harry practically flew into the bedroom, locking the door.  There was an argument coming and he didn't want to hear it.

            "That was a good one." Snape rubbed his eyes as he rose from the chair, "What is going on is that my daughter has been captured because she trusted your niece.  By the way, Yallenoa is the traitor Heather has been looking for.  Also, Harry's link to his sister is flaring up because she is in pain and he won't block her out."

            "He was in your _lap_." Black hissed.

            "Because he's _scared_.  Heather did the same and you never felt threatened by that.  I just got him to eat, and I thought I might get him to have more when you decided to come in an interrupt everything."

            The man stared at his peer, "I hate it when you are so blasted logical.  I still don't like that you call her your daughter."

            Severus snorted at the remark, and went to his bedroom door.  Despite what the boy may have thought, the professor had placed a charm immediately on the door the first night the youth had been there, and he was admitted to the room without hesitation.

            Harry was crouched on the floor, wedged between the armoire and the wall, talking to himself and rubbing his forehead, "I'm cold."

            The hand from earlier snaked out and touched the skin of the child.  It was clammy, "Stop it, right now.  She's a big girl and she would be very upset if she realized what you're doing."

            "I can't…"

            "You don't have to block her out all the way."

            Potter shook his head, "I know she's still alive."

            That was one point the professor had to concede, so he spoke no more.  Instead, he helped the scarred boy from his hiding spot and laid him down in the bed, the duvet pulled up to his chin, "She'll be back.  I promise you that."

            He was careful to not specify whether she'd be coming back alive or…

-*-*-

*v* Cassie Jamie *v*

cj.1@cassie-jamie.com

This one only took two days…wonder if I can get it down to one…

Alright, Tinuviel, just coz you asked, I'll tell you.  The challenge I've been thinking of was as follows:

            A person's mind can only take so long before it begins to believe the things they are told – be it lies or the truth.  After fifteen perpetual years of hearing that he was a worthless freak, Harry ran away from the verbal and mental abuse (not physical) to the one place most "freaks" find companionship – a circus.  And in the process of giving up his identity, disappeared for three years.

            At what would have been the end of their seventh year, Voldemort has taken over much of Europe.  One of the few safe havens left is Hogwarts.  After one big battle (I don't care when, just so long it was after Harry has disappeared and the school year started), the school stopped allowing anything but owls and house elves in or out of the building as there are a few errant Deatheaters hiding just outside Hogwarts' wards.  Hagrid has been forced inside away from his beloved animals, while Ron and Hermione have not seen their families since they returned for their fifth year.  It is uncertain if the older Weasleys made it out of the country to America, where many have gone for asylum.

            The Wizarding community has started to revolt and fight back with more vengeance than ever before.  But without the Golden Boy for a symbol of hope, they're failing.  So someone (Severus was my thought, but Remus, Siri, and Draco were all suggestions that were made.) decides the time has come for Harry to be brought back home.

            That was as much as I wanted to because much more and I'd be writing the story myself!  I don't mind if some teachers have died, especially if Dumbledore's a ghost.  And, as my friend pointed out to me, there should be no sort of Quidditch playing OUTSIDE.  Have mini games in the Great Hall, fine, but not outside.  The only outdoor type thing they should have is the courtyard (like in the movie) that the students walk through from class to class.

            Anyways, also, one point of contention for me – if anyone does write this atrocity of a story, and wants to use Severus, and does the long lost father thing, don't do the common spells-that-break-at-a-certain-age thing on Harry and that's why no one recognized him.  Anything would be better.  A potion would be a good irony.  I love those stories, but their getting monotonous.  :-D


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